


Mnemosyne

by NeoVenus22



Category: Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Amnesia, Multi, OT4, Stargate Crossover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-13
Updated: 2010-03-13
Packaged: 2017-10-07 22:56:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 28,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/70100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeoVenus22/pseuds/NeoVenus22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What begins as a simple task to help a friend ends in tragedy as John is stripped of his memories by a rogue alien device. Now Cameron, Sam, and Vala struggle to restore John's memory, even knowing he might forget his relationship with them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mnemosyne

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Business or Pleasure?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/59210) by [NeoVenus22](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeoVenus22/pseuds/NeoVenus22). 



> Spoilers: SG-1: 7x13, 'Grace'; 9x01, 'Avalon (1)'; 9x12, 'Collateral Damage'; 9x14, 'Stronghold'; 10x03, 'The Pegasus Project'; 10x08, 'Memento Mori'  
> Atlantis: 1x04, '38 Minutes'; 2x08, 'Conversion'; 3x07, 'Common Ground'; 3x10, 'The Return (1)'

"Look on the bright side, it's not like we have to move Jackson out of his apartment," Cameron said, tracing the corner of the picture frame on the wall.

Vala huffed. "I just don't see why we have to do it at all." She poked at the front of the enormous notebook Sam was holding, falling apart at the seams. "Aren't there strapping airmen here for just that purpose?"

"Look at it this way," John offered with a grin, "it's another charming Earth ritual." The humor was lost for a moment when he remembered the last time he'd been around alien and boxes. Of course, this situation was much different, noted when Vala pinched his thigh secretly and beamed up at him.

"There are other rituals I like much better."

"Moving is generally followed by beer and pizza, on the credit card of the one being moved," Cameron offered.

"Oh, Colonel Mitchell, as if I would have trouble running extraneous charges on Daniel's credit card."

"What's got me," said John, "is that you guys are all SG-1. Why am I here?"

"Because manual labor makes you sweaty and adorable?" suggested Vala.

"What were you going to do with a free Saturday afternoon anyway?" said Cameron.

John chose to ignore this. "You guys have weird ideas of fun."

"This isn't even the type involving firearms," said Cameron. An airmen struggled past them under the weight of an enormous box of books. "Someone tell that guy we have forklifts," continued Cameron, plucking the journal from Sam's hands and tossing it cavalierly on top of the pile; it was a wonder the man didn't collapse.

"Colonel Mitchell, I could use your assistance," interrupted Teal'c, who was holding a box just as big as the airman's, only his was tucked under one arm and he looked like he was completely fine with that.

"With what?" said Cameron. "Wiping your brow of nonexistent sweat?"

"Daniel Jackson has several artifacts that require relocation," Teal'c said serenely.

"That's cool. You get the big huge boxes, I'll take the little statue things." Cameron glanced sideways at John. "I love how my masculinity goes unquestioned around here."

Sam had a sudden coughing fit.

"Need help?" John offered, barely smothering his own laughter.

"They're only twelve inches, Sheppard, I think I can manage."

"Oh, I'm not sure you could," Vala said blithely.

"I'm going to need a moment," Sam excused herself, choking as she fled to the hallway. Vala wriggled her fingers at the boys before darting after Sam, probably so they could go off and giggle together.

"Just don't break anything," said Cameron, taking the slights against him in stride, which either said good things about his character, or disturbing things about the frequency with which these comments occurred.

"I'll be careful," said John, walking over to the shelf farthest from the door. In between the endless books were a few interesting-looking objects and relics, some from Earth's own ancient cultures, and some most likely from other points in the galaxy. Dr. Jackson certainly had quite the collection. John reached for the odd wooden statuette balanced on the top shelf, shaped like an old-fashioned bedpost. It was heavier than he was expecting, and he lost his balance slightly from the weight coming down on him. That was the least of his worries, however, as a surge of bright light filled John's vision, with a wave of white heat hitting him, and then there was nothing.

* * *

He woke up in a gray, institutional sort of room with lots of blinking, humming machines and nurse-type people milling about. He also woke up with a raging headache and a queasy feeling coiling in his gut. He pushed himself up to a half-seated position, balancing on the weight of his ill-used arms, feeling dizzy from the effort.

A woman with a dark ponytail and a pursed frown seemed to notice his attempts to escape and came over to immediately shine a bright penlight in his face. "Welcome back to the world of the living, Colonel Sheppard. You had us worried for a while there."

Her features swum for a moment in front of his eyes. He'd understood her perfectly, but at the same time, not at all.

"What?" he said. "What's going on?"

"You got on the bad side of an angry little piece of equipment, Sheppard," a male voice cut in, and a guy with a rumpled military outfit and tired blue eyes stepped out from behind the curtain. The guy smiled at him with familiarity. "Jackson's office should come with yellow police tape and a waiver."

"I don't understand," he attempted to explain.

"That thing you touched," the guy —was he military?— said, "it knocked you out cold for a few days. Jackson swears he didn't know it could do that."

"Jackson?"

The guy's brow furrowed slightly. "Yeah, Jackson. You were helping him move all that junk in his office, remember?"

He shook his head and action made his vision blur a little. It felt like there was cotton where his brain should have been, light and airy, making him weightless and worthless, barely tied to the ground. He understood them, knew they were speaking English, knew he could speak English, hell, even knew what English was. But even though there didn't appear to be any language barriers between them, none of this was making any _sense_.

"No," he said finally, willing the military guy and the doctor woman to understand. "I don't remember. I don't remember anything."

* * *

Cameron was bowed over the briefing room table, his face buried so far in his callused palms that it looked almost as though he was trying to get his hands to swallow him up.

"Amnesia," General Landry proclaimed from Dr. Lam's report.

"That's the good word," Cameron muttered into his hands. He felt Sam's fingers dance awkwardly across his shoulders for a quick breath before retreating. She was torn between comforting him and the propriety they were all expected to maintain.

Cameron dropped his arms to blink wearily across the table at Vala, who was sitting unusually solemn and staring at her lap. "This is our fault," he said finally, returning his gaze to the cherry-red varnish of the table when Vala wouldn't meet it. "We made him do it. Hell, I'm the one who told him to move Jackson's statue things in the first place..."

"This isn't your fault, Mitchell," Landry said with the sort of pseudo-fatherly almost-kindness that he displayed in the moments when his temper wasn't short with Cameron. Cameron wished the man would yell; it would've felt better. "Dr. Jackson has any number of artifacts in his office, from everywhere in the galaxy. Sometimes the things our people bring back have ill effects on base personnel. But the overlying mission of Stargate Command is to bring back materials we believe could be useful in the continued..."

"Defense of this planet, sir, I know," said Cameron.

"There was no reason to believe that there was anything suspicious about this situation, Mitchell. These things happen."

"They happen a lot more frequently in our line of work, sir," Cameron said shortly. He was having reservations about agreeing to this stupid meeting in the first place. So far, all they'd done was pass 'no one is to blame' around the table like a hot potato, and rehash the finer points of Dr. Lam's medical evaluation. Goddamn _amnesia_. And the real kicker of the whole thing was, it was Cameron's second case in less than a year. It was a damn good thing he'd never had illusions of being sane; they would have been long since shattered by now.

"We're doing all we can do right now. I've sent word to Dr. Weir about Sheppard's condition, and Dr. Jackson is already looking through his notes to find out where the damn thing came from. Colonel Carter, I'd like you to take a look at the device itself. And be careful."

"Yes, sir."

"And what are we supposed to do?" asked Vala. 'We' of course meaning those who hadn't been brought on board for their brains.

Landry gave her an appraising look. "You and Mitchell are friends with Sheppard?"

Cameron nodded tersely; he knew John wasn't exactly on Landry's list of top five favorite people ever. It didn't help that John was locked in a vicious cycle where he was judged based on his transgressions rather than his accomplishments, and he wore his insubordination on his sleeve just be to be difficult in return.

Vala, on the other hand, wore her friendship with John boldly on her face. "Yes."

Landry surprised Cameron by extending Vala that paternal-figure sympathy and understanding. "Then I suggest you pay Sheppard a visit. He could probably use a friend right now. Dismissed."

Cameron stumbled woodenly to his feet as General Landry retreated to his office. After a moment, Teal'c joined Cameron and Sam in standing. "Do you require assistance, Colonel Carter?" Teal'c asked. He'd been so silent during the proceedings that Cameron had quite forgotten he was there. Then again, it was normal for Teal'c to be silent, and Cameron had been caught up in his own issues.

"No, I'm fine, thanks," said Sam with a wan sort of smile. If there was anyone who'd suspect anything not up to snuff about their relationships with one another, it'd be Teal'c. But Cameron knew he could trust Teal'c to not say anything if the situation ever arose. "I should probably just get right to work."

Teal'c bowed his head and departed, leaving the two lieutenant colonels and one alien alone to glance helplessly at each other. "I'll take you to the infirmary," Cameron volunteered to Vala, restlessness suddenly building in his muscles.

The journey to the infirmary passed in silence as the both of them wallowed in their own thoughts. Cameron couldn't explain to Landry that it really _was_ all his fault. John had been not exactly himself when he'd come back to the SGC after the Ancients kicked him out of his home. Cameron had gallantly offered him room at his apartment, pushing the limits by declaring loudly and often around the base that the place was 'too big' for him. John had agreed. That much was common knowledge. It was far from conventional, but Landry had cut him some slack for what was clearly a charity case.

Cameron had purposefully kept things loose for awhile, relationship-wise, to give John time to adjust. Vala hadn't been allowed in the apartment, although the four of them would meet on neutral grounds while they waited for John's twitchiness to subside. It was hard losing your home, and while they couldn't quite grasp the enormity of John's pain, they all to some degree understood where he was coming from and wanted to help. All they wanted was to remind John he had friends on this planet too, people who cared about him.

Cameron had been the one to suggest it might be fun to help Jackson out with his little dilemma.

And John was suffering because of it.

Never help your friends move.

* * *

"This is the device that hurt John?" Vala asked in Jackson's new office, reaching her hand out to the sleek wooden object.

"_Don't_ touch it," cautioned Cameron, grabbing her wrist and ceasing her curious grope.

"We don't know what sort of effect it has, if it's widespread or not," offered Sam.

"Actually, I have an idea about that," said Jackson. He leaned forward slightly on his messy desk, still surrounded by piles of unopened boxes. Numerous notebooks were opened and scattered over every free surface. He'd gone straight to work on the problem and hadn't even bothered to unpack. "You see, this," he waved at the offending statue, "was brought back from the Ori ship."

"I thought I recognized it!" said Vala. "Isn't that the thingy I gave you?"

"You _gave_ him?" said Sam, eyes widening slightly with information that seemed a bit out of place.

"He saved my life, after all, it was the least I could do." Vala ruffled the corners of one of Jackson's notebooks, steadfastly ignoring all of her friends.

"You were smuggling things off the Ori ship?" said Cameron.

"They used me as a vessel to get their spokesperson across the genetic border, then left me to my own devices on one of their own ships once I'd ceased to be useful," she said with a defiant shrug. "What else was I supposed to do? Call it industrial espionage."

"Anyway," said Jackson, "I've been doing some background reading; there's a parable in the Book of Origin about a man named Lethin who had seen such atrocity in his life that he eventually left his village and went on a great quest. Along the way, he came across a man who offered him whatever he desired. And all Lethin requested was a way to erase the dark images from his mind. The mystery man revealed himself as a Prior, wiped Lethin's memory, and said, 'The path of Origin is the only truth, the only journey, and all you need to know.'"

"It makes sense," murmured Sam in a low voice. "I mean, as much as any of this makes sense. Look at the design."

"The staff of a Prior," said Teal'c. And upon closer examination, accompanied by a few unpleasant memories, Cameron recognized the object as a shorter, cruder version of one of the familiar staffs, sans crystalline power source.

"But if both Jackson and Vala touched it, why did it only affect John?" asked Cameron.

"Genetics," said Jackson.

"The Ancient gene," said Sam. "Take would-be Ancients, make them into clean slates, convert them to Origin."

"And Sheppard's one of the strongest gene-carriers we've got," Cameron said, crossing his arms over his chest tightly. He was done with this conversation. Once again, the Ori were out to screw him over. He was getting pretty tired of it.

Vala must have been pretty tired of it, too, because she got to the point. "Can it be reversed?"

"I don't know if it was meant to be reversed," Jackson shrugged apologetically.

"There's another way," said Sam, and she trailed off when they all looked at her, as though she hadn't meant to speak aloud. Under scrutiny now, she said, "The memory device from Galar."

Cameron sighed hard enough to expel the past two hours from his past. "Is that a good idea? We don't have Sheppard's memories, you know." Cameron carefully didn't look at any of them. "Any military contacts who could have been of use either hate him or are dead."

"I was thinking we could use some of the expedition members' memories as a primer," Sam said. "With the hopes that it'll jump-start the rest of his memory."

"Dr. Lam suggested it would be useful to bring in people from his past," Teal'c said. "Running into Daniel Jackson helped restore Vala Mal Doran's lost memories."

"I don't think it's easy as all that," Jackson said uncertainly. "What happened to Vala was a fluke with a zat gun. But this is a device specifically designed to wipe memories. We don't know how big the effect is, how lasting..."

"We have to _try_," Vala interrupted passionately. "He doesn't know who we are and we're keeping him prisoner." Of any of them, Vala was perhaps the best source as to what John might be going through. It was evident in the ragged lines of her face that she was taking this personally, was making this a mission. Cameron thought he saw a glimpse of tears she'd be too proud to shed. It was only because of Jackson and Teal'c's presence that he didn't grab her and hold on for dear life.

Jackson sighed, shuffled his glasses down his nose and rubbed the line they'd made on the bridge. "Believe me, I feel as responsible as any of you, and am all for restoring Colonel Sheppard back to his former glory. But Dr. Lam said we should take it slow. What Colonel Sheppard has gone through in the past three years is more than enough for any brain to handle. We don't want to overwhelm him."

"Yes," Vala said, tweaking the elbow of Cameron's sleeve with a ghost of a grin, "don't do with Colonel Sheppard like you did with me, and try to make me believe a whole crock of alien nonsense."

She was making the effort, it was only fair that he return the favor. Anyway, the smile blossoming was natural, if not weak. "You yourself are a whole crock of alien nonsense."

"I better get back to work," Jackson said, his polite way of saying 'you've ceased to be entertaining, get the hell out.'

"Right," said Cameron, stepping back and shooed his team out of the room. It was only when Teal'c was a safe distance away that Cameron leaned in to mutter, "I'm against the memory device, you know that, right?"

Sam's face was raw with pain and frustration. "I know you had a bad experience, Cam, but this is our only option. And it worked for Ferguson, didn't it?"

"Ferguson's situation was something else entirely," he forced out the words, eager to get off the subject of Fergie. "We're trying to rebuild the Eiffel Tower with used Legos and no blueprints, here."

"There's something else." Sam bit her lip and ushered them farther away from Jackson's door, although it was more than likely he was already immersed in his tome again and not listening. "We can't guarantee that any of this will work. Even if it does, it might only be a fragment of restored memory. We don't know how much of any of this he's going to remember."

"And by 'this' you mean us," Vala confirmed.

Sam nodded. "It's not like we can input any of those memories into the device."

Cameron felt the urge to punch a wall. He resisted. "Right."

They stood dangerously, tellingly close, wanting to offer some level of comfort, but all knowing how futile it would be. Jackson hadn't exactly shown confidence in the idea of being able to reverse the device's effects. Vala had experience working against her, knowing how hard it was to get memories back once they'd been lost. And Cameron and Sam both knew what it was like to be overwhelmed with memories you didn't understand, moreover, ones that weren't yours to begin with. Trepidation left them at a standstill. Their mission had barely begun and already it seemed a little hopeless.

* * *

Vala hovered at the edge of John's bed. He was asleep, or feigning it well. She wasn't quite sure what to do; would he rather be by himself and not have to deal with another stranger trying to force information down his throat, or would waking up alone frighten him? After escaping from Athena, Vala often relished being alone, hiding from a past she didn't understand, afraid someone would hurt her or worse, she'd hurt someone. Conversely, she craved company, because being alone with nothing but her memories was terrifying.

She didn't have time to decide how to treat John before he stirred, the time of reckoning. He groaned, lifting one hand to his face to dig the heel in his eye, and it was a moment yet before he registered her presence. "Hi," he said groggily.

"Hello," she said, hating how stilted her voice sounded. A part of her was fighting the urge to run. Let the others deal with it. The wound was still too raw for her.

Then again, she knew better than anyone what John was going through and was in the unique position to help. Vala straightened her shoulders and gathered her resolve for the task ahead.

"Are you another doctor?" he said.

"You should be so lucky." She flashed a flirty grin, stuck out her hand for a shake, and said clearly, "A friend. Vala Mal Doran. I know you don't remember me, but you'll wish you did."

"I already sort of do," he said, with a crooked half-grin. At the core of him, she was pleased to note, he was still John Sheppard.

"Do you play cards?" she said, holding up the pack she'd stolen from Cameron's desk.

"I have no idea."

"I'll teach you, then." Vala pulled up a stool before he had the chance to refuse her. "Now, I'll have you know, I can con you at a number of games from this and other planets. But I'll go easy on you."

"All right." John arranged himself comfortably as Vala dealt the cards on opposite sides of his lap tray. "You said you were a friend?"

"Yes." Vala rewarded him with a smile and played around with the remainder of the deck. Cameron and Sam had warned her independently of one another that she was to be very cautious with John and not blindside him with details. He was in a fragile state, they'd said, as if she didn't know. But Vala distinctly recalled craving answers for the fragments of memories that flashed at her during her time with Sal. It was a fine line to dance and she was fond enough of John she wanted to be extra-careful with him. "You and I have worked together on a few occasions." She held up her cards. "Do you know Crazy Eights?" It was the first game Cameron had taught her, similar to one from her own childhood home, one that offered little opportunities for gambling.

John nodded, an uncertain smile forming. "A nurse took pity and taught me. I even won a couple."

"Oh, Colonel Sheppard. Taking pity on you is letting you win."

They played two hands, one which she won, and one which she lost. She didn't even cheat. She started to shuffle the cards for the next round when John said, "So how are we friends?"

"We've worked together," she said.

"You mentioned that. Are you with the military?"

"I'm a... consultant." She smiled, pleased with herself. "I'm on Colonel Mitchell's team. And you live with Colonel Mitchell. We're all friends together. See?"

"Sort of. Mitchell." John frowned as he pieced together the information in his mind. "The crazy sort of guy?"

"No more than the rest of us," she agreed.

"I remember him. Well, you know what I mean. He was in here this morning. He seems nice."

"He is nice. But don't tell him I said that."

John eyed his cards. "I won't."

Vala lay an eight on the pile of discards between them and met John's gaze. "Hearts."

There was a slight pause before he started drawing cards from the second pile. She thought she saw a smile playing. "Why am I not surprised?"

* * *

Sam angled her head over the memory device and wished fervently there was a minimum requirement of an hour of meditation between each word that spurted from McKay's throat. "Rodney. I'm not asking for your life story. I just want a few select memories of Atlantis missions so Colonel Sheppard will have some sort of primer to work from."

"Seems like a flimsy idea, if you ask me."

"Thankfully, no one did."

"Have you really taken all possible options into consideration? What if he starts thinking my memories are his? What if he thinks he's me?"

"God forbid." The world did not need two Rodney McKays. "We're just hoping to spark some recognition of the expedition."

"This is a ridiculous plan that will never work."

"Funny, that's what Cameron said."

"Throw a stone enough times, eventually it'll strike something. I don't notice you hitting up anyone else for their adventures."

"McKay," she began with as much patience as she could muster, "you're the only available member of the frontline team. John's team."

"Oh," said Rodney. And because he wouldn't admit he'd been wrong or had skipped over a detail, he clung petulantly to, "So he's John now? You're suspiciously friendly."

"It's only suspicious because you're paranoid." Time apart from Rodney McKay had warped her memories of him into the idea he was an eccentric source of amusement. Fifteen minutes of cold, hard reminders, and she was beginning to think John was a saint for putting up with him regularly. Amnesia was practically a vacation.

Sam shook her head to rattle the dismally unfavorable thoughts out and returned her focus to the delicate nature of the memory device. She'd learned basic functions, the recording and viewing of a set of memories, like programming a tape in a VCR. She'd been working on speeding up the expiration of the memories, a way to have them fade away. Her goal was to plant the memories into John's subconscious while he slept, so he would have the images to build from, but with a dreamlike quality that hopefully wouldn't damage John's psyche, like they'd seen happen in the past.

Rodney held still as Sam fixed the receptors to his temples. He might gripe and moan about the process, but Sam knew he'd help John out at all costs. In spite of all his faults, Sam respected Rodney immensely for that. "Now, don't just pick the missions that glorify you."

"I think you're severely underestimating my net worth."

She slapped the last lead on his head. "Just pick things you think it's important he remembers, okay?"

"Share my nightmares with the populace. I'll get right on that. This is stuff most people wouldn't watch in horror movies, you know."

"You'd be surprised what makes it into theaters these days."

"I haven't been getting out much," he returned and Sam smiled before she was aware of it, before she could stop it. It was almost a friendly moment. Rodney, naturally, did his best to resolve that. "Do you want me to throw in Sheppard's love affairs with alien priestesses while I'm at it?"

Sam rolled her eyes. "If you think it's necessary."

It wasn't as though this was the first time using untested technology, or even the first time using untested technology on a friend. Still, Sam couldn't help being antsy about the whole situation. Cameron's puppy-dog eyes and Vala's retreat into herself didn't help matters. Nor did the knowledge that McKay would delay his return to Area 51 and instead spend his time hovering and criticizing every moment until this was fixed.

Then again, while certain aspects of Rodney's personality wouldn't be appreciated, his input would. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and worry was running her ragged. She'd shelve her pride, even her short-term sanity, if it meant saving John.

* * *

Vala opened the door to her quarters to find Sam there with bags under her eyes and her fingers digging into her forehead. "Is he behind me?"

"Who?" asked Vala, peering. There were only the usual airmen.

"McKay. I've been in the lab with him all day."

"Poor Samantha, you need a reprieve," Vala said with genuine sympathy, herding the colonel into her room and shutting the door. She even forwent the customary flirty wave at whomever was on duty.

"I downloaded memories from McKay, but Dr. Lam and Dr. Beckett have taken over from there." Samantha frowned at nothing in particular and sat on the edge of Vala's bed. "Apparently, I lack the medical training necessary to continue at this stage."

"They're kicking you off the project?"

"They're suggesting I take a break. If the modifications I made are viable, then everything progresses as planned. If not, I take the device back and make the appropriate changes. I wish they'd let me monitor the whole thing. It's not going to be any easier to fix things if I don't know firsthand what went wrong."

The subtle notes of Sam's statement weren't altogether lost on Vala. "You don't think it'll work the first time."

But apparently they'd been lost on Sam. She looked up, surprised when she realized what she'd said and implied. She attempted a smile, it came out as a grim squiggle of the lips. "I guess Cameron's pessimism is rubbing off on me."

"He's had a bad experience," Vala said. She wasn't concrete on the details of the situation, Cameron had been unusually unresponsive the one occasion the topic had come up. Vala understood it had something to do with a murder and a killer gone free, but had been discouraged from pushing the issue further.

Vala leaned over and kissed Sam's forehead. The colonel's eyelids fluttered closed. "I believe in you, Samantha."

"Thanks."

"Have they barred you from visiting him?"

"No."

Vala smiled. "Good. You can come with me. Perhaps the overwhelming nature of our combined beauty will shock him into regaining his memory." The comment had the desired effect and Samantha laughed a little. Even that sounded worn out. Vala tugged at her hand. "Come on. John's adorable when he's asleep. You all are, actually, except for Cameron, because he snores." Samantha, chuckling and helpless, followed Vala out of the room and to the elevator.

The mood sobered considerably in the elevator car; it was hard not to feel grave when they had no idea what they might face. But the scene that greeted them was mild compared to their worries. John was playing cards with Cameron, the latter of whom was wearing a look of consternation. "Ladies," Cameron greeted. "We're playing cards."

"We can see that," Sam said wryly.

"He cheats," said Cameron.

"I taught him how," Vala said proudly. "Hello, John."

"Vala, hi." John's smile was bright and filled with obvious recognition, and Vala flushed with pleasure.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, going over to give him a kiss on the cheek as a prize. She'd learned not to show blatant physical affection with the other hyper-sensitive members of her team, but the rules had always been a tad loose for her and John. She loved that.

"I'd like to get out of this damn bed," he said.

"I think we could arrange something," Cameron said, not looking up from his cards. "Damn. I fold. Hey Sheppard, you know Carter, right?"

John looked over at Sam. "Yeah, you've visited before. Hard to forget you; people talk about you a lot."

Sam blushed, and Cameron cut in, "Sam's the one in charge of working on that memory device I told you about."

John sought out Vala's eyes as if he needed her validation of this information. Vala realized it had come about that of the three of them, he now knew her best. She swelled with an odd sort of pride. "They tell me I'm part of a secret branch of the Air Force that goes to other planets," said John.

Vala nodded. "Through the Stargate."

"You realize that sounds crazy, right."

"Crazy as completely losing your memory?" Cameron muttered softly to no one in particular. "Trust me, the Stargate Program's completely real, Sheppard. We're not pulling your leg. I thought it was nuts when I first heard about it, too. Thought my CO had taken one too many blows to the head."

"The device that made you lose your memory was alien," said Sam, perhaps the best versed in explaining things, as she'd logged the most time doing so. "And the one that will bring it back is alien, too."

"So you guys go to other planets, and all the alien technology in the universe exists to screw with my head," said John flatly.

"Ain't it a bitch?" quipped Cameron, rising. "On that disturbingly sour note, I need to steal the girls from you. Think you're all right on your own?"

"I'll be all right. What with my steady flow of nurses and all. Even though everyone swears there's nothing wrong with me physically."

"The nurses just think you're cute," said Vala. She cheerfully ruffled John's defiant hair. "I do, too."

"Watch it," said Cameron, and once again, it wasn't quite clear who the target of his comment was. With his back turned, Vala felt free to stick her tongue out at him. John needed some positive reinforcement, and Cameron was being a stick in the mud.

"We'll see you later," Sam said to John.

"I'm sure I'll be here." He was trying, rather unsuccessfully, to pass the comment off lightly, but it made Vala ache a little inside. She darted back and kissed his cheek again before Cameron dragged her out of the room.

"What did I say about going easy?" he said.

"He needs a friend, Mitchell, and you're too scared to be one for him. You don't know what he's going through."

She watched as his fingers curled in and out of a fist. "Just be careful."

Vala couldn't help thinking that being careful wasn't always the best way to do things.

* * *

Although he hated the stagnant nature of his day, trapped in his new quarters, shuttled from there to the infirmary, from the infirmary to the lab, and from the lab back to his quarters, there were a few things John had come to appreciate about his crappy life in Cheyenne Mountain. The people, mostly.

John was certainly never lacking for attention. There was a string of visitors coming by, encouraging him to 'keep fighting' and telling him somewhat fantastical stories about John's work in the project. Or else doing junk to his head.

"It's just a quick CT scan, Colonel Sheppard, nothing to worry about," Dr. Beckett said soothingly as John propped himself up on the bench for yet another infirmary visit.

"Oh, yes, let's by all means aim more objects at his brain. That'll really help," said Dr. McKay with a heavy eye-roll.

"When we're done, can we get a scan of McKay?" said Major Lorne. "I've always wondered what it is about his brain chemistry that has made people been unwilling to kill him after all these years."

"Very hilarious," snapped McKay. "The emphasis of course being 'brain,' which you lack."

"Rodney," said Dr. Beckett. The mild admonishment appeared to be enough, causing McKay to clamp his jaw shut and even prevent Lorne from rebuttal.

Dr. Beckett pushed at John's shoulder until he lay down on the bed and shared an amused smile with him. Ever since he'd arrived at Stargate Command, McKay had been following John around, and engaging his apparent favorite pastime of yelling at people and telling them what they were doing wrong. Still, it was clear even despite his unlikable nature that McKay was spurred by equal parts ego and good intentions, and for better or worse, was concerned about John's welfare. Beckett at the very least seemed to find him amusing.

"How about everyone who isn't a medical doctor leave the room?" Dr. Lam cut in. Lam didn't seem to find anyone amusing. She scared John a little bit, and judging from the chastised demi-smile on Lorne's face, he wasn't the only one. John liked Lorne, funny, sarcastic, and evidently his military second-in-command, although he wished Lorne would stop calling him 'sir.' He felt uncomfortable accepting Lorne's obvious respect, since he couldn't remember why or how he'd earned it.

McKay, for his part, wasn't impressed by Dr. Lam. "You know, I gave up a very important project over at Area 51 to come here and help out, and I don't know how anyone expects me to do so if they keep kicking me out of the room."

"You can go to the observation room if you like, Rodney," Beckett said with unerring patience.

McKay grumped but seemed to respect Beckett enough to follow the suggestion. And thank God for soundproof glass. John closed his eyes and tried to lose himself in the low hum of the machine as it ran its scan. But in the dark, the sound shifted and somehow he was elsewhere. He recognized it as a background noise, one that managed to inspire both a sense of safety and a distinct wariness. It made him restless and he couldn't figure out why.

"You're all done, Colonel," Lam said a few moments later, and John gratefully jumped to his feet. He wanted to ask about the sound, find out why it should be so familiar, but he didn't know with whom, if anyone, he could bring it up. It was a _sound_, an innocuous and unthreatening hum.

"Can I go?" he asked impatiently.

Lam gave him a look he couldn't read at all. "I suppose so. I really think—"

"He's got an escort, Dr. Lam," Carter's voice floated over them. John glanced over; she was standing in the doorway and flashed him a brief but instantaneous smile. "That is, if you don't mind the company."

"There are worse people I could spend the time with," John acknowledged.

"I heard that!" McKay ranted, so loud it came muted but clear from beyond the observation window.

John found himself sharing a smirk with Carter, who said this time so only he could hear, "Let's get going before he can catch us."

What John liked about Carter was that although she was clearly much smarter than anyone around the base, she didn't lord it over anyone (unlike McKay), and gave her friendship out easily. She was quick to smile at his lame attempts at jokes and listened to him without interruption. The immediate feeling of comfort he had around her was enough to prompt him to ask, "I have a question."

"Shoot."

"This is a little embarrassing, but have you ever heard this sound before?" And he prompted a low growl of a hum from the back of his throat in a poor imitation of the buzz he'd heard in his head.

Carter cocked her head to one side, listening to him seriously. "In terms of what?" she said.

"I don't know. I think machinery, maybe."

"That's what I thought. I don't know, it almost sounds like the _Prometheus_. The engines."

"Are you sure?"

"I once spent four days stranded on it," she said authoritatively. "Not to mention I helped build it. And all those hours clocked doing deep-space recon last year..."

"I get the point," he said, silencing her with a wave of his hand. "But I've never been aboard the _Prometheus_."

"No," she said. "But you were on the _Daedalus_."

"The _Daedalus_," he echoed, and it came to him in a flash: silver-gray hallways and lots of blinking lights. A distinct feeling of claustrophobia. "I remember it."

Carter blinked at him. "Really, John?"

He blinked back at her, for an entirely different reason. It was the first time she'd called him John, and it had tripped off her tongue with such obvious familiarity it almost drove the spaceship from his mind. There was something about that triggering his memory, as well. Something light, something known, dancing to the forefront of his memory and then skipping away in less than a breath, like a word on the tip of his tongue instantly forgotten.

"Run away from me, that's mature," sneered McKay, coming up the hallway behind them. Carter shot John a commiserating smile and he was left with the sour feeling of his only moment gone.

"We don't need you breathing down our necks, McKay," Carter said.

"Oh, no, I'm sure the two of you have already logged a number of hours breathing all over each other and doing God-knows-what-else..."

The notion made the hair on John's neck rise.

"_McKay_," snapped Carter, unbothered by the accusations, which made John think they came with frequency and therefore meant nothing. He tried not to be disappointed. "Make yourself useful."

"For your information, I'm protecting Sheppard from the hacks that you people like to call 'personnel.'"

"Oh, please. As if you—"

"It was your fault he's in this condition in the first place, you know! Typical SG-1 'we're untouchable' neglect. No wonder you and Sheppard are all buddy-buddy, he's got the same bad attitude."

"Who are you to talk about bad attitude?" she retorted.

John stepped slightly between them, though he had no idea why he of all people had to play mediator. "If you guys want to keep this going, I think I can find my own way back."

Carter grimaced. "Sorry." Her eyes were apologetic.

"Yeah," he said helplessly. Of course, in the wake of his outburst, they'd both fallen silent, and he realized he'd really enjoyed a moment where the people around him were not focusing on him in the slightest. He felt as though everyone held themselves carefully around him, trying to make a good first impression all over again, now that he no longer recalled which bad habits of theirs he'd seen before. This exchange had been a breath of fresh air in the stale command center.

Major Lorne jogged up to join the group. With four of them, they were officially blocking the hallway. "Dr. Beckett wants to see you," Lorne directed at McKay. "He wants to talk to you about putting 'undue stress' on Colonel Sheppard."

"It's coming at me from all sides," McKay said, throwing his hands up in the air. He made it five steps back to the infirmary when he pointed at Carter and declared, "I'm not done with you."

"Oh, I'm sure you're not," she said through a tight smile.

Lorne beamed at her. "He pisses you off too, huh?"

"He was pissing me off before you ever were a blip on his radar, Major," she said with surprisingly good cheer. "Trust me, you're not alone."

"I don't know if I should be comforted by that or not," said Lorne.

"Join the club."

"Well, my work here is done. I'll leave Colonel Sheppard in your capable hands?"

"I think I can manage." John wondered briefly if he was imagining the playful twinkle in Carter's eye as she cast him a sideways glance.

"All right," said Lorne with a genial nod. "Colonels."

"Major," Carter answered as he took off. "You've got good people looking out for you, Sheppard."

"Yourself included," he said. "You guys are doing your best, I only wish I could meet you halfway."

Her voice was steady as she said, "It'll happen."

* * *

Elizabeth Weir looked haggard as she stepped off the elevator. "Colonel Mitchell."

"Dr. Weir," he said, as cheerfully as he could manage. They could both have used some cheer, although it seemed a little too difficult to pull off.

"General Landry briefed me on the situation," she said, in a chastising tone suggesting she should have been called sooner. "He said SG-1 was making it their personal mission to see to John's recovery."

"We do have some experience with this sort of thing," he acknowledged. "Dr. Jackson's flipping through his notes for anything that might be useful, and Carter's working on the memory device still."

"And that's where I come in?"

"Well, you have a unique perspective of Sheppard's career." Cameron fought back a nervous cough and escorted her down to the lab he'd come to think of as the nightmare room, judging by how many crappy memories they were harvesting from former expedition members. He had his reservations about the idea of implanting memories as abstract dreams; if they didn't do what Sam thought they might, then more than likely, they'd only serve to screw John up more.

"Dr. Weir, you've met Bill Lee?"

Dr. Lee smiled brightly and Weir only nodded, not in the mood for pleasantries. Cameron didn't know her all that well, but it couldn't have been easy for her, losing Atlantis and then having this happen to one of her friends and coworkers not long after.

"Carter's taking a much-needed break," he explained, "so Dr. Lee's going to hook you up."

"Right," said Dr. Lee, waving his hands at the chair Weir was supposed to sit in. "What I need is for you to concentrate on some select memories of Colonel Sheppard's history with the expedition that you feel are important to his character."

"That won't be easy," she said, settling in. "John takes... took the Atlantis mission very seriously. I couldn't determine what was unimportant enough to weed out."

"Yeah, those 'best of' specials always inevitably leave something out," said Cameron. "Just go with your instincts. Whatever pops up first is probably best. We don't know what he'll pick up on anyway."

Weir murmured her understanding and Dr. Lee set to work. Cameron made himself as comfortable as he could on a stool by the door and watched the proceedings. Sam always kicked him out of the lab, saying he made her nervous. She had a vested interest in the project in the first place and his backseat driving didn't help.

After forty-five minutes on the machine, Dr. Weir sat up and rubbed at the red spot on her temple where the lead had been affixed. "Colonel Mitchell, you're still here."

"It does tend to block out the world around you, doesn't it?" he said.

"So you've been hooked up to the machine before?"

"Yeah, I was the guinea pig when we first came across the technology on Galar." He tried not to reveal his bitterness. "But if you're asking if I've donated memories for Sheppard, the answer's yes."

Dr. Weir studied him and there was something like respect in her eyes. "You're really invested in this, aren't you?"

He felt like he could at least tell her some of the truth. "John's been crashing on my couch since you all got sent back. He's got friends at the SGC, too, Dr. Weir. We're all worried about him."

"I can see that. Well, I suppose at the very least I'm leaving him in capable hands with Colonel Carter. And with you, Dr. Lee," she added as an afterthought. Lee lifted his hand in acknowledgement.

"But let me guess. You expect to be kept abreast of the proceedings?"

"I'm not technically associated with the SGC, so I don't 'expect' much of anything. In fact, I think Landry only issued my invitation to Stargate Command as a courtesy." Dr. Weir's lips turned up in a wry approximation of a grin. "But I'd appreciate any news you have to offer. I'm sure you understand."

"Believe me, I do. And I'll do whatever I can."

The funny thing was, he kept making this promise. To his team, to John, to himself. And yet, he had his doubts that nothing he was doing was quite enough.

* * *

"Hey, Sheppard. Feel like going on a trip?" Mitchell asked.

John looked up from the report he'd been reading about SG-8's visit to an Ori-controlled planet. It featured his name, but it sort of read as fiction. "As long as it's not back to the infirmary."

"I'm not that cruel. Come on."

John got up obligingly and followed Mitchell into the hall. "SG-6 is due back in ten minutes," Mitchell explained. "I thought maybe you'd like to see them come in."

John wondered if this excursion was to see Stargate Command in action, or personal commitment to any of the members of SG-6. "I'm just glad to be going somewhere different. You can't let me off the base?"

"Until you get your memory back, you're a liability. There are plenty of Trust members lurking around who'd like to pry inside your head."

"Maybe we can borrow some of their junk to fix me," said John.

Mitchell looked over sharply at the muttered comment. "Believe me, you don't want anything to do with them. And Sam's doing the best she can. If you were yourself, you'd know that."

John was properly subdued; he knew enough about Carter to know that now.

Mitchell recognized this and was kind enough to spare him the indignity of apologizing. "We're all wound a little tight right now." He didn't say anything else for the duration of the venture to the illustrious level 28, but the air between them was thick with things unsaid. Maybe in the 'before' part of John's life, they could have said those things easily, but John had no way of knowing this. And no matter what John thought of Mitchell, Mitchell was distinctly holding him at a distance.

Mitchell took him to an empty room with an office on one side and a big picture window on the other. The briefing room. John was propelled to the window by something beyond him, and stood looking down through the glass at the hulking Stargate. After a moment, he said with utter clarity, "The Atlantis one is different."

"Of course it is," Mitchell said distractedly. "Different galaxy, different constellations."

"No, I mean the 'gate itself is designed differently. The symbols light up when the chevrons lock."

Mitchell's head whipped around as he stared John down in shock. "Wait, what? How do you know that?"

John looked down, watched the vortex of the wormhole whoosh out of the giant stone ring, and didn't even jump. This was his first time seeing it, and he felt he _should_ have been startled by the thick, watery eruption issuing forth. Yet he wasn't surprised at all. "I just know."

"Does that mean you remember?" said Mitchell, trying so hard not to sound anxious that forced casualness choked him.

"I remember that," John said helplessly. But he did. He looked down at the Stargate and saw the Atlantis one in his mind. He couldn't picture anything around the Stargate, though. It was like putting together a puzzle, but only being handed a few pieces at a time.

"That's good, though," said Mitchell. "It's a step in the right direction."

"Actually," said John, "there was something I wanted to ask you."

"Yeah?"

"But it's personal," he hedged.

"Oh." Mitchell nodded his head at the hall, indicating they should take this conversation elsewhere.

What John really wanted to ask about was his and Mitchell's own history. He couldn't deny that he was attracted to Mitchell, but given the military thing and Mitchell's own uptight nature, he wondered if he was completely stretching with the ideas he had about their relationship.

Still, he didn't think the question would go over well in this facility, so once they reached the safety of the elevator, John asked his secondary question instead, "Do Vala and I have a history?"

Mitchell was silent for a long moment, long enough to make John wonder if he should ask again. But finally Mitchell said, "You should know she flirts with everyone."

"I got that impression," John said, but he wasn't bitter at all, merely amused. Vala was fun. "But I got sort of a vibe..."

"Oh. Well." Mitchell exhaled sharply. "You two are sort of like-minded when it comes to flirting."

Which prompted a slew of questions about John's own habits and reputation. But he pushed those aside for now; Mitchell's hesitance to answer had suddenly sparked an idea in John, a bad one. "Wait... you're not with Vala, are you?"

"Do you really want to be asking this?" said Mitchell, a definite attempt to deter, but one that didn't really give clues about the answer he wasn't giving.

"I want to remember," John said stubbornly. "You guys said we're all friends, so this is information I already know."

Then the doors opened back on John's floor and a trio of Marines clamored to get in. Mitchell forged a path out for himself and John, and used the moment as a way to pretend John's questions didn't exist.

Never mind the top-secret nature of the Stargate Program and his involvement in it. John was getting the feeling his toes weren't even in the shallow end of everything going on.

* * *

"Cameron."

"Buh," said Cameron, lifting his head from his desk. A growth had appeared on the side of his face during his nap. It turned out to be the top page of his mission report. He pried the offending paper off and peered up blearily at whoever had interrupted his nap. Sam was hovering over him with her arms crossed.

"You okay?"

"Peachy," he said. "What's up?"

"Landry thinks I should get out of here for a little while."

"Landry's right. Why don't I give you a ride home?" he offered. He even worked up to a smile. "There could be a pretty sweet dinner in it, if you're lucky."

Sam melted into a chair, eyes closed. "That'd be nice."

"You holding up okay?"

"As much as to be expected. Everyone thinks I can just come up with instantaneous miracles, but the notes I have on the memory device are incomplete thanks to our tenuous relationship with the Galarans—"

"That's not all my fault," he felt the need to pipe up.

"I never said it was," she said patiently. "It doesn't matter anyway. Any time I think I'm making any progress, Dr. Lam heads me off on the pass because it deals with specific brain chemistry."

"And while you're brilliant in many respects, you're not a neurosurgeon?" he filled in the blanks.

"Not the exact words I would've used, but something like that."

Cameron rooted in the top drawer for his keys. "What about the esteemed Dr. Jackson? Has he made any headway on the Ori mind-wiper?"

"I think he's hit a wall. The Ori aren't exactly forthcoming with the secrets behind their magic."

"Ruins their allure," he said dully. "So we're back to square one. Wait for John to get his act together."

"Yep."

Cameron could no longer stomach the idea of sitting around and discussing it at length. He hopped to his feet. "C'mon. Let's get some good home cooking into you, see if we can't perk that genius brain right back up."

"Who says your cooking's good?" she replied.

"Ouch. I take back everything." But he smirked at her, relieved she could make a joke. Cameron took hold of her wrist and hauled her to her feet. "You all set?"

"Yeah." She leaned into him for the half-second trek from the chair to the door, and he had to admit, it felt good to be needed, even for a moment. And he didn't even so much as blink to see Vala sitting on the floor outside of his office.

"It took you long enough," she said, glancing up at them.

Cameron didn't even feel like commenting. "Want to go for a ride, Vala? I'm taking Sam home."

"Ooh." She got up gracefully. "Shotgun."

"She can have it," Sam said, sensing Cameron's impending argument on her behalf.

Cameron couldn't let the bone drop before he'd had the chance to gnaw it. "I offered you the ride first."

"I'll live, Cam. No one cares about these things but you."

"Some people find my quirks charming," he defended himself, which had Sam laughing all the way up to the surface.

Cameron was granted the brief bliss of normalcy for the duration of the drive back to Sam's house. Vala fiddled with the radio, Cameron made fun of her song selections, Sam rolled her eyes at their antics every six seconds. For awhile, it was easy enough to pretend that things were the way they used to be, with the three of them waiting for John's next visit from Atlantis, and having to find ways to make do.

Of course, there was a painful reminder waiting for them in Sam's living room: one of John's shirts tossed sloppily over the back of the couch and forgotten in the haste to get to work and clock in.

Vala sank onto the couch and swept the shirt into her lap. "Can't we just bring him off the base?"

"No way. Athena's still out there, not to mention there are new Trust members cropping up every day."

"A fact which I am well aware of, thank you very much," she said, her voice narrowed razor-sharp.

Cameron watched her clutch at John's shirt and bit back the things he wanted to yell. About how he slept at his desk because he didn't want to go home. John's things were scattered all over his apartment (their apartment), the Johnny Cash poster tacked to the back of the closet door, the guitar that gathered dust and got passed from corner to corner.

John wasn't Vala's alone, after all; they were all invested.

Sam read the anger in his face and touched the back of his hand with a commiserating look. She went to join Vala on the couch, but he knew she wasn't choosing sides. Cameron took a deep breath and said, "How about I go start dinner," his lame attempt at keeping the peace.

He thundered around like an elephant for a few minutes, clattering pans, running water, and making the grimace on Sam's face deepen. Any ideas he'd had for dinner were tossed aside just as quickly when he realized how bare her kitchen and pantry were. It looked like spaghetti would have to suffice. At least Vala loved it.

He thought it was odd he hadn't been interrupted, until he dragged two plates over and found Sam asleep with her head on Vala's shoulder. Vala had resigned herself to not moving and was flipping quietly through a magazine.

"_The Astrophysical Journal_?" he read the title, handing Vala a fork.

She set aside the publication. "Samantha is very, very smart."

"Don't I know it."

"Should I wake her?"

Cameron looked at Sam, propped awkwardly, her torso at an uncomfortable-looking angle to properly pillow her head against Vala. "Only to get her into a real bed."

"Poor Sam," said Vala. "Between this and the Merlin doohickey..."

"What's going on?" mumbled Sam sleepily, perhaps trained to respond to the words 'Merlin doohickey.' She struggled to pull herself from a slumped to a seated position.

"We're taking you upstairs," Cameron made the executive decision, taking hold just above her elbow. "C'mon, up."

"I'm fine," she attempted to wave him off.

"You're not fine. You're exhausted. And you have every right to be exhausted, so don't bother pretending you're not. You're going to take an aspirin, you're going to take a nap, and Vala is going to eat all of your food." In the interim, Vala had picked up her dinner plate and started scarfing down warm pasta. She waved her utensil, caught. Sam laughed.

"All right."

"And we're going to keep you company," Vala announced, swallowing. "Because the second we leave, you'll just run over to one of your thirty thousand computers and try to work from home." It wasn't an entirely untrue statement, but Cameron got the impression that Vala didn't want to be alone and didn't want Sam to be alone. Hell, Cameron didn't really feel like it, himself. He would've been perfectly content to crash on the couch rather than head back to the base and putter around uselessly.

"Now, can you make it up the stairs all right, or do you need me to carry you?" he said to Sam.

"Oh brother. I'm fine." She headed upstairs, stripped down to her underwear, and crawled under the covers. Vala perched on the edge of the mattress next to her. There was a long beat where they all three stared at different points in the room, and finally Sam's tremulous voice cut the silence. "I miss John."

Cameron pressed his back into the molded wood of the doorframe, making sure to keep his distance. It seemed sort of traitorous to go anywhere near them now, worse even than when John was still in another galaxy.

"Did you ever consider," Vala said in a tiny voice, "that John is choosing not to remember? He's seen a lot of dark things. Maybe he's happier now, not knowing."

"You were a Goa'uld host," Cameron said abruptly, his fists pressing tightly into his ribs. "I'm sure you had a lot of flashes of memory that had nothing to do with kittens and rainbows." Vala looked at her hands. She didn't like to talk about her time as Qetesh and almost never did. "But you were strong," he insisted. "John's strong, too."

"Plus he's safe in the SGC, with lots of people working to fix him," Sam said. Cameron wasn't sure if she was convincing Vala or herself.

Cameron, the restlessness settling again and making his limbs move of their own accord, darted across the room and pressed his lips first to Vala, then Sam. "We'll figure this out," he swore. "We always do, right?"

* * *

Vala swung herself up on Daniel's desk and kicked her heel against one of the drawers. "Daniel, darling," she began.

"You can't borrow my credit card," he said, sparing her the most fleeting of glances.

"I wasn't even going to ask," she said, affronted. "Not that it matters anyway, I can just steal it. I wanted to know how your work was coming on that statue I stole. Where is it?" A quick scan of Daniel's office revealed nothing pertinent to the mission, even lurking amidst the usual disarray. In fact, it looked very much like Daniel had moved on to other projects.

"Oh, it's been shipped to Area 51 so their scientists can take a crack at it."

"Well, then," she said, biting off each word in an effort to remain calm, "without the right tools, how are we expected to help fix Colonel Sheppard?"

"What? Y ou'd have to ask the general, Vala, I don't know." Relinquishing his attention to her at last, he took a moment to study her. "You seem unusually involved in this. Is it the Athena thing?"

"If by 'thing' you mean 'kidnapping and torture that resulted in complete memory loss,'" she fired off irritably. Vala thought Daniel would have noticed all the time she spent with John: shared meals when she wasn't with SG-1, having him take her places because Daniel wouldn't, coming out of John's office at all hours of the night. Frankly, she'd hoped Daniel would at least be decently jealous.

"He needs our help, Daniel," she said plaintively, on the verge of pleading. "It's been too long. Even I got my memories fully back after a couple of weeks."

"Vala, is everything all right?" Daniel asked with genuine concern, placing his hand on her arm.

Vala shrugged it off impatiently. Normally, she'd be thrilled that stodgy, dull Daniel had broken the mold and showed her signs of physical affection. But now, it only served to remind her that John used to do that, and John couldn't do that, because John barely remembered who she was.

Vala missed John terribly. She missed crawling into his lap. She missed sharing jokes at Cameron's expense. She missed the way John was the only person to smile at her and not make it seem like he was just indulging her. They were similar in a lot of respects and not just personality-wise. They were both lonely and out of place, and selfish as it sounded, Vala had been relieved to hear the expedition members would be returning to Earth indefinitely, because then she and John could be out of place together.

"No, Daniel," she informed him curtly, "none of this is 'right.'" She hadn't planned on making so dramatic of an exit, but there was nothing more Daniel could do for her.

She made an abrupt left turn outside of Daniel's door and almost slammed into Cameron, coming from the opposite direction.

"Vala, hey, I was just looking for you. I need to tell you something."

The way her day was progressing, all she could do was steel herself for more bad news. Cameron held her elbow in a death grip and steered her towards the first door they could duck behind. It happened to be the men's room, but Cameron barely noticed.

"I just got out of an ambush with General Landry," he said darkly, irritation pursing his features. "We now officially have a timeline on Sheppard's recovery. Apparently we're wasting too much time and too many resources on trying to fix the guy. The IOA is having kittens." Vala failed to see how this was relevant to anything. "John can stay on the base, obviously," Cameron continued, "but they're pulling Sam, Beckett, Lam, and Lee off the project at the end of the week."

"They can't do that," she said, the bottom dropping out of her stomach.

Cameron shook his head. "This has been a long time coming. John only got assigned to the Atlantis mission on Dr. Weir's recommendation in the first place. Same for SG-8. The fact that General O'Neill backs him only pisses the people in charge off further. They're not going to change their minds about him. They've pretty much written him off as insubordinate and a liability. And now he's a liability that's costing the project time, money, and manpower."

"But how is he supposed to get better?" she demanded, knowing full well that Cameron had no more answers than she did, that he was in fact just as angry as she was. All the same, she needed to vent her frustrations on someone and he had the misfortune of being in front of her. "Daniel said his research turned up nothing."

"Sam pretty much assured me there's nothing else they can do with the Galarans' memory device, anyway. John's on his own."

Vala felt hot tears start to build up. She looked away, hoping Cameron wouldn't see, hating herself for losing control. She was not so naive and egotistical as to believe SG-1's search and rescue earlier in the year had the full backing of those pesky little men in Washington. She was, after all, a mere annoyance to those outside of SG-1. She assumed her teammates just didn't care what their government said and would keep looking, keep fighting anyway, because that was what they did. Never leave a man behind, wasn't that their motto?

Yet John was being left behind.

Her gut boiled in anger, anger and disbelief that something as ridiculous as a long grudge and silly Earth politics were going to prevent John from recovering. They'd offered her their loyalty, she'd just assumed the same would be true for John, better for John, because he was one of their own.

She and John were certainly outsiders, banded together in the fact that the rest of this stupid organization was all too willing to cast them aside.

Vala pushed past Cameron and burst loudly into the hall, for once not reveling in the stares of the personnel witnessing the SGC's resident sexy female alien coming out of the men's room for no explicable reason.

Cameron was wrong about one thing; John was not on his own. Not if she had anything to say about it.

* * *

"May I accompany you for lunch, Colonel Carter?"

Sam looked up from her notes on Merlin's phase-shifting device. "Of course, Teal'c."

Teal'c sat and started in on his casserole, diverting her attention for a few moments. He was maybe the only person on the base who ever got casserole on casserole day. Sam waited patiently for him to speak up, staring at the pages of data until her vision blurred.

"You seem tired," he observed quietly.

"It's been a long day," she said, her mouth flattening grimly. "A long few days," she amended.

"Is Colonel Sheppard's condition not improving?"

Sam shrugged. "The things he does manage to recall are so miniscule they're not making much of an impact. It doesn't help that everything we're throwing at him is, well, slightly fantastical. As far as he knows, he could be remembering an episode of Star Trek he saw." She stabbed at her lunch, maybe a little more viciously than she'd meant to. Teal'c registered the action with only the slightest of brow lifts.

Anything Sam might have considered following up with was lost in the clatter of Cameron's arrival. He took the empty chair from a table where two members of SG-17 had been having a quiet conversation and dragged it over next to Sam and Teal'c, not even caring his raucous relocation had attracted the attention of half the mess hall.

"The IOA's giving us the shaft," he announced.

"I know." Sam flashed her notes at him, painstakingly translated from Ancient by Daniel, although utterly lacking the finesse of someone who knew science at all. She was in the middle of translating the translations. "I'm working on Merlin's device."

"Vala's not taking it well," Cameron said.

"Vala doesn't know anything about M theory," Sam murmured distractedly, having spotted a glaring error. She marked the page as a reminder to ask Daniel later.

"I meant the fact that the people in charge are suggesting we leave Sheppard hanging in the wind." He wasn't accusing, but he was sharp enough to remind her to pay the conversation better attention.

"Vala Mal Doran is invested, given she only recently recovered her own lost memories," Teal'c pointed out. "And it is evident she thinks highly of Colonel Sheppard."

"I'm just worried she's going to do something stupid," said Cameron. "Can you talk to her, Sam? She listens to you."

"She does not," Sam scoffed. Vala didn't listen to anyone. She liked and respected all of them, that much was clear, but she usually disregarded Cameron's orders altogether if she didn't think they were relevant or important. John just found her hilariously demented and let her walk all over him.

"Of course she does. Everyone listens to you."

Oddly, this made Sam redden a bit. She thought she caught Teal'c smirking at her and tried to dissuade this by focusing on the table. She wiped at the spot on the page where a dollop of mashed potato had blurred a planetary designation.

"What do you think she'd do?" she asked.

"Hell if I know," he said. He drummed his fingers against the edge of her tray and she tried not to flick him away because she knew he wasn't aware he was doing it. He resorted to unconscious tapping when he got agitated. Cameron didn't like feeling helpless. "Try to operate the device herself. Kidnap Sheppard and take him through the Stargate to locations unknown. Blow up something in protest. I don't know, she's Vala. I don't pretend to understand her even a little bit."

Sam's smile was inappropriate but irresistible. She tried to dull its effect by stuffing her spoon in her mouth.

"I know where she's coming from," Cameron muttered. "I'm pissed off, too."

It wasn't as though she wasn't ticked off at the verdict herself. But she didn't feel quite as boxed in as Cam or Vala. They, after all, hadn't spent eight years working under Jack O'Neill and learning how to bend and stretch the rules to get the job done, even if it left a few raised eyebrows. General Landry wasn't Jack or General Hammond, but Jack wouldn't have appointed him if he didn't think Landry was up to the task of putting up with SG-1's interesting way of doing things. It was like handing over a blank check.

Besides, Sam liked solving problems. If there was anything the SGC taught her, it was new and interesting ways to go about figuring the solution to a problem that seemed impossible.

* * *

"Cameron says I'm not allowed to play games with you anymore," Vala said, studying the design on the back of John's cards and trying to recall if this was the deck where she'd marked the cards.

"Why's that?" asked John.

"Because I teach you new and interesting ways to cheat. And because he hates losing."

John laughed. "It's not like he's very good at card games to begin with."

"A fact which I try to exploit often. How are you doing?"

"At blackjack? You're kicking my butt."

"Yours would not be the first," she said with a wink. "Although I meant it in a more general fashion."

"Ah." This was serious enough that John lay down his cards to give her his full attention. Vala extended him the same courtesy. "I keep getting flashes," he admitted. "The things I see... they don't always make sense. And they're not always good."

"It's awful," she agreed without thinking. Vala's first recovered memory, dream-like, had been of marching Jaffa, the dull gold walls of a _ha'tak_ ship. Of course, at the time, she didn't have a clue what Jaffa were, where she was, and it had terrified her.

"Yeah," he said. "It sorta is. I mean, the mission reports help clarify some of the things I don't understand. But these memories... they're not mine. I know they're not. Carter told me how the device worked. And I know she's doing the best she can, I know they all are, but it doesn't really make things any easier for me. I want a memory that's mine."

Cameron always accused Vala of being too impetuous and never thinking through the consequences of her actions. He was hardly one to talk, he was only a smidgen more rational than she was, but he wouldn't have done it anyway. Nor would Sam. It had to be her.

Vala leaned forward and kissed John, hard and fast. It felt like forever since she'd done it last, and after a moment of confusion and hesitance, he responded with aplomb. Vala pulled back, tucking loose hair behind her ear and breathing a little heavier. "Remember that?" she asked, feeling both flirty and desperate.

"I definitely didn't see that coming," he said. Not exactly the answer she'd been looking for. She waited for something else; this was John after all, and even if he didn't remember he was John, he was still John and was still more than capable of handling the situation. Instead, he surprised her by saying, "Maybe this isn't a good idea."

Vala felt the first blush of irritation, but she sat back obligingly. "Can I ask why?"

John shook his head. "It's... complicated. Okay, none of this isn't complicated. But I don't..." He sighed, "Can we talk about something else? Anything else? Please? I really don't feel up to dealing with this right now."

"All right." Though her ego certainly felt the blow; so much for the healing powers of her lips.

"You said it was awful, the memory thing. And you sounded like you knew what you were talking about." Vala looked down at her hands, already knowing what was coming and what she couldn't avoid saying. Cameron was going to be very irritated with her. "Do you?" he asked, with the slightest measure of apprehension. And hope.

It was too late to turn around. She'd opened this door and now she had to walk through it. "I used to be a Goa'uld host," she explained. John had enough files to understand what that meant without her having to lay out the basics. He nodded, waiting for her to continue. "The Tok'ra removed the symbiote, but earlier this year a former rival Goa'uld kidnapped me on Earth and tried to probe my memory. They wanted what Qetesh knew, said it was buried in my subconscious. We never found out, because the device backfired. I lost everything. I didn't know who I was, where I was, and I was alone and scared. Everything I remembered seemed too strange to be real." Frankly, she was surprised at how steady her voice sounded; she felt as though she was on the verge of trembling. She was certainly inspired.

John stared at her. "Are you serious?"

"Yes, very."

"You're not just making that up to make me feel better?"

"I have lied about a lot of things to a lot of men," she acknowledged. "But this is the truth. Besides, it's not really making you feel better, is it?"

"Well, not exactly. But I don't feel quite so alone anymore." He offered her a halfhearted smile that made her twist uncomfortably inside.

"I know you're..." she didn't say 'scared,' in case he thought it was an insult, "a little freaked out." She flicked fondly at his hair to ease the blow of her assault on his manliness, and also to appease her own desire for a physical connection. "But you have me. And Cameron and Samantha. And there are plenty of people on this base who want you to get better." She took his hand in her own and squeezed it tightly. "John, I was lost in the suburbs of an unfamiliar planet. Which isn't a particularly odd situation for me, but at the time I didn't know that because I remembered nothing. I knew no one and spent half my time running away because I wasn't sure who to trust. This is much better. Rest assured, you are far from alone."

* * *

Cameron obligingly shut the passenger side door after Vala. "Don't play with the radio," he warned her through the open window, then trotted around to get behind the wheel.

"Your taste in music is abysmal," she complained.

Sam grinned a bit at John. "Molly Hatchet, Lynyrd Skynyrd stuff."

"Oh man," John groaned, leaning forward slightly so Cameron could hear him better over the rumble of the engine starting up. "You're not one of those people that goes to concerts and screams 'Free Bird,' are you?"

"I only did that once," Cameron said somewhat huffily, to Sam's amusement.

"Did you have a lighter?" asked John.

"No," was the answer, although it came too quickly, and sounded more like a cough. John smirked at Sam and she relaxed into her seat.

It hadn't been easy getting Landry to agree to let John off the base, but she was glad the general had finally relented. John sucked in fresh air and was noticeably giddy, quick to laugh at the most unremarkable things. Best of all, he no longer seemed particularly intimidated by the three of them. Things obviously weren't the same, but it was a big improvement, one that made itself apparent in everyone's mood.

"Hey." Vala twisted around to stick her head in the back and meet Sam's eye. "Does this remind you of anything?"

"What?"

"That trip to Washington," Vala said, grin unfurling. "Weren't we all sitting in the same seats?"

"Different car, though," said Cameron. "Rental."

"Because only one and a half people can fit in your car, Cam," Sam said.

"Well, you know me, style over substance."

"What trip to Washington?" John interjected, sobriety settling heavily in the comment's wake. Sam had managed in the lighthearted moment to forget that John didn't remember. Now it was all she could focus on, those good moments tainted by the gaping hole in John's memory.

"You came back from Atlantis to meet with the IOA," Cameron filled in easily, although Sam heard the strain in his voice. "We took you out for drinks. Trust me, dealing with the IOA, alcohol helps."

"Ah," said John, in a tone suggesting he wasn't about to press the issue further.

The tension was stifling, so Sam spoke up, unnaturally loud, "Where're you taking us, Cameron?"

"Not Il Fiore Bianco," Vala piped up.

"Noted," said Cameron. "Can I ask why not? I mean, I've heard good things about that place."

"_Because_," she said, "that was the restaurant that the Trust kidnapped me from. You know, before they wiped my memory?"

"Vala," said Cameron sharply. "Not in front of John."

"What am I, eight?" John said in a low tone that only Sam caught.

"He already knows," said Vala with a dismissive hand wave.

"Vala!"

"What? He would have found out eventually. I'm a topic of great interest around Stargate Command. It would have come up one way or another. Bambus in particular has a crush on me, don't think I haven't noticed," she tossed loudly behind her. "I thought it better John hear the whole truth from me."

"Don't think I'm not grateful," John added, which was argument enough that Cameron shut up completely.

"Right," said Cameron tightly, "so, no Il Fiore Bianco. We're under-dressed anyway. Anyone been harboring particular food cravings you desperately need filled?"

"Anything that doesn't come from a package," offered Sam.

"Anything that doesn't come from the mess," said John, earning a few grins.

Cameron ended up taking them to a little place Sam had never heard of, tucked away on a back street. Vala set the mood by taking the straw from her complimentary water and immediately blowing the wrapper into Cameron's face.

"Was that entirely necessary?" he asked, swatting the offending paper to the floor.

"It was fun. Fun is always necessary," said Vala. "John taught me how to do it right. He also taught me how to balance a spoon on my nose, and how to do that singing wine glass trick."

"Oh, all the secrets of the universe right there," said Cameron, attempting to share his exasperation with Sam.

Sam, on the other hand, was more concerned with the emotions playing out on John's face as he sat quietly beside Vala and watched the byplay, completely out of his element. He had the anxious, overwhelmed look of someone who wanted to join in the dance, but kept missing the beat.

Vala snatched a spoon from the table and attempted to affix it to her nose, with little success. Finally John reached over and took it from her. "No, like this," he said, "you have to find the balance point." After a moment of futzing around, he pulled his hands away with the spoon neatly suspended from his nose.

Cameron blinked in disbelief. "You forget the Lost City of the Ancients, but you remember how to do parlor tricks with your cutlery?"

John shrugged, his grin halved by the scalloped silver.

Vala, in a rare display, sat perfectly still and held a second spoon in front of her face. She dropped it twice, but on the third attempt, it stayed in place. With a triumphant crow, she opened her menu and perused the contents. "What exactly is the point of a veggie burger? Isn't the whole purpose of a burger is that it is a patty of meat?"

"I think it's supposed to be a healthy alternative," Sam said.

"More like a sucker's alternative," said Cameron, slapping his menu shut. "I'm getting steak."

"He does this every time," Sam said to John with something of a fond irritation. John lifted his head from the menu curiously, but in doing so, the spoon dropped from his nose. He swept it under his napkin in one swift motion. "He spends any time around you and feels the need to announce to everyone in the vicinity he's a red-blooded male."

"You say that like it's a bad thing, baby," laughed Cameron.

The epithet, not unfamiliar, usually served to alternately make her smile and make her want to hit him. In the restaurant, not the SGC but still not the privacy of their own homes, it sparked that ever-cautious part of Sam. She didn't reprimand Cameron, however, but found her attention flickering to John to gauge his reaction. His eyes swept back and forth between her and Cameron, but let the word slide without comment.

Sam supposed she should have felt relieved he didn't want to press it. After all, it was one less uncomfortable question to answer. On the other, maybe it would have just been easier to finally shed some light, get things out in the open. Sam had done a lot of things in the past decade that she would have much rather forgotten all about, but it must have been awful for John to not know anything and rely on the testimony of others for the barest facts of his own existence. Meanwhile, the people who were supposed to be close to him were avoiding one of the biggest truths of all.

Sam faltered over her next words, but the waitress demonstrated excellent timing by showing up and saving them all further discomfort. Cameron got his steak, Vala decided to be adventurous with the dreaded veggie burger, and both John and Sam ordered regular burgers, asking to go heavy on the fries.

"You guys are adorable," said Cameron sardonically. "Next you'll be ordering a malt with two straws."

Sam felt pinpricks on the back of her neck and found John smirking in her direction. It was so friendly and familiar that the awkwardness from earlier was instantly gone, and she even went so far as to allow herself to believe for a few selfish seconds that nothing had changed.

"What's a malt?" asked Vala.

Cameron sighed and slunk into his chair as if the very world was weighing him down. "You make me feel so old, Vala. I swear," he glanced at the others, "it's like being followed around by some punk thirteen-year-old kid who's never heard of Dukes of Hazzard."

"Oh, I saw that movie!" Vala said excitedly.

"You see what I mean?"

"Now you know how I feel when I have to explain string theory for the seventh time," said Sam.

"Whatever," scoffed Cameron. "You had eight years of practice with General O'Neill. You're used to it. Besides, you _like_ explaining this crap, otherwise you wouldn't keep doing it."

"It's not crap!" she said, mock-offended. She looked to Vala for backup, because although Vala cared as little about Sam's techno babble as she did about Daniel's lectures on mythology (at least, the sort that didn't involve treasure), she absolutely loved siding with Sam against Cameron, to Cameron's continued chagrin. But Vala in the interim had turned her attention to John.

"Do you think I'd look good in a pair of daisy dukes?"

"Tell you what," said John, brows raising a hair. "I'll spend a lot of time thinking about it."

"I bet you will," she flirted, grasping his forearm.

"Vala, no. Sheppard's head will explode," said Cameron. "I don't want a reenactment of _Scanners_ while I'm trying to eat my dinner."

"Says the man who ordered his steak 'so tender it's still got legs,'" said Sam. She hoped to catch John laughing, but he was staring at Cameron, somewhat shell-shocked. "John?"

"You've said that before," he said.

"What, about _Scanners_?" said Cameron distractedly, having not caught John's expression.

"No, the thing about..." John sounded faraway. "It was in a pink room..."

All traces of amusement dripped from Cameron's face. Sam grabbed his hand under the table. Vala's were almost exaggeratedly big. All three of them held their collective breath, clearly remembering the coral-walled hotel room in DC that was the home of their first night with John. They were teetering on the edge of a cliff, waiting to find out if they could plant their feet on the ground, or if they'd fall back in and have to climb the rocky face all over again.

The waitress came; she lay down plates and warned everyone about the heat, all the while remaining cheerfully oblivious to the deflating balloon of the party at table twelve. Sam took back all praise of the girl's exceptional timing.

"Guess who's only getting a fifteen-percent tip," Cameron muttered darkly, releasing Sam's hand.

"I'm going to run to the bathroom," John said. Cameron started to get up, but John waved him off. "I thought it was just women who went to the bathroom together."

"Last time anyone split off from the group in one of these situations, they got abducted," Cameron said. "Landry would never let me live it down." He grinned at the women, but it was all for show, and he escorted John in the direction of the restroom.

Sam propped her elbows up around her dinner plate and dropped her forehead to her knuckles. The heat from her dinner wafted up into her face, suffocating her. She appreciated the parallel. "Well, this is turning into a disaster."

Vala snatched a fry from John's plate. "It's not so bad," she said with the optimism Daniel and Sam herself were usually known for.

"Every time I get my hopes up for even half a second, they get crushed," Sam said, speaking mostly to the seeds on her burger bun. "It seems pointless to even try."

She heard the faint scrape of a chair on the floor and then felt a warm hand between her shoulder blades. Not that Sam wasn't grateful for Vala's attempts, but she wondered what had prompted such a role reversal. Maybe Vala was feeling much more positive about the whole situation since she'd unburdened her soul to John about her big secret.

Vala had nothing to hide. Sam envied her that. This, just like the rest of her life after getting assigned to the SGC, was another big secret she was expected to keep.

She knew she shouldn't be resentful. They each had their crosses to bear, of course. Vala, having nothing else to do, spent all of her free time with John, making no headway. Cameron was the one who returned to an empty apartment the nights he could be bothered. They were all feeling the pull of loneliness and it was silly to pretend this was all her problem.

Of course, if she'd just been able to configure the device correctly...

"This isn't your fault, Samantha," Vala interrupted her thoughts as if she could read them plainly. Her fingers traced slow, soothing circles over Sam's back. Sam leaned into the touch; maybe it was just Vala's turn to be the well of strength.

"Hey." Vala put her mouth by Sam's ear and wiped the wisps of hair from her sweaty temple. "How about we get out of here? We'll steal Cameron's car, do a little joyriding, find something else to occupy our time, cheer ourselves up."

In spite of everything, Sam burst into laughter. She didn't even care that they were in the middle of a restaurant, with their 'dates' in the bathroom. She embraced the unconventionality, submitted to Vala's kiss.

"Um, ladies?"

Cameron's voice cut through Sam's haze and her cheeks flamed as she pulled back. Vala recovered instantly, nabbing French fries from Sam's plate and popping them in her mouth. "You're back," she proclaimed giddily, as if it was a surprise. She got out of Cameron's chair and planted a kiss on John's cheek with just as much exuberance as she'd displayed towards Frenching Sam moments earlier. Sam stifled her giggles with a bite of her burger. Vala certainly had a way of lifting one's spirits. John settled onto his chair, looking utterly bemused.

"You were gone a long time," Vala said, a vague explanation for her antics. A grin lit up her face. "You weren't finding ways to amuse yourselves, were you?"

Cameron coughed. "Maybe we should just go."

"But we haven't eaten yet," Vala said of her untouched burger.

"Doggie bags," was Cameron's answer, although he cast his own dinner a sad look.

"Don't leave on my account," John said shortly.

"It's not you, John. I'm just beginning to realize that... well, never mind. Let's just get back to the base." Cameron flagged down the waitress and Vala twisted nervously. Sam was pretty sure Cam wasn't going to blame them for the awkward haze settling over the evening, but she didn't think that would matter to Vala. Cameron's mood had taken a big nosedive, and unless something had gone horrifically wrong in the bathroom, it probably had something to do with Sam and Vala's little PDA.

Check paid, Cameron hastened them to the door with their cooling dinners, and John's hand seized Sam's elbow by the door. "Can I talk to you a second?" he said quietly, watching Cameron and Vala head down the sidewalk to the car.

"Yeah, sure."

"Look, I don't know if this is what Mitchell's pissed about, but I'm guessing he knew about you... and Vala?"

"Well... sort of..." she hedged. Sam's relationship with Vala was only a small part of the story. She didn't want to have to lie to John's face outright, but frankly, she had no idea where this was going.

"I just wanted you to know, I'm not going to say anything to anyone. I know it's the Air Force, and you guys are all teammates..."

Sam's first impulse was to kiss him, but in the wake of recent events decided it wasn't exactly the best of ideas. Instead, she gave him a brief hug, drawing in his warmth. He patted her back uncertainly. "Thank you," she said, to no one in particular. Regardless of the current state of things, she was glad her and John's paths had crossed.

* * *

"You went out with Sheppard tonight," McKay's voice snapped from the door to her lab.

Sam didn't bother trying to dissuade him from entering. Nor did she try to pretend she didn't know what he was on about. "And Cameron. And Vala."

"Yes, I'd forgotten how obnoxiously inseparable you four seem to be," he said derisively. "My mistake, I should have realized you were joined at the collective hip." He stood at the opposite end of her desk, directly in her line of sight if she dared look up from her work. Sam heard the rustle of him crossing his arms over his chest.

"We thought it would be good for Colonel Sheppard to get off the base," she said coolly. "And we figured SG-1 would be the escort most likely to get approved."

"And yet you didn't bring the whole team."

"Daniel and Teal'c had other things to do." Sam dropped her pen to the table and straightened. "Did you have a point, McKay?"

"Why is it only SG-1 gets to dictate when he comes and goes? If you'll recall, I actually lived with the man for three years."

"And then you transferred to Area 51 and you have no authority here." Sam almost regretted the bite to her words, realizing the obvious too late: he was jealous. Not necessarily because he thought she and John were carrying on some clandestine relationship, cruelly aware Rodney still held a torch, but because he considered John a friend and felt he was being pushed out of his care.

"Who even cares about that? The point is," and it must have been his third or fourth point, "you should have invited me." Sam didn't have anything to say to that, just gaped at him, which he took as an invitation to continue. "I mean, I know more about Sheppard than you do... unless you're sleeping with him, in which case, you know things about him that I never, ever want to know, and why are you sleeping with him? He's Captain Kirk, Sam, he'll grip your shoulders then he's gone by the end of the episode."

"Rodney." He shut up and she found herself softening. "You can come next time, okay?"

"Yes, I'd love to sit in on your double-date."

As if Cameron would come on that excursion. "It's not a date, McKay."

McKay frowned at nothing in particular. "Did he seem better?"

"Who, Sheppard?" Sam shrugged and focused her attention on tapping insignificant keys on her laptop so he couldn't read too much from her. "He seemed happy to be getting out, but... I don't know if it did much good."

"Is there a chance he's never going to get his memory back?"

"This isn't like your average neurochemistry. We threw two alien devices into the mix, plus there's the matter of his own genetics..."

"Colonel, please," he said quietly.

"There's a remote chance, yes." He already knew that, of course, and knew she knew he did.

"Fantastic. So what options are left open to us? Voodoo?"

"Hope," she murmured, trying to grasp that same rope that had been pulling her for a decade. The ends got a little frayed after awhile, but she knew further down the line, it was strong. "Faith."

* * *

John woke up with a pang in his chest that he couldn't explain. He hadn't slept on anything funny that he knew of. And the rest of him felt fine. It was just the area slightly to the right of his heart that throbbed, like he'd broken a bone and shifts in the weather made the fissure resonate. It was a wound his mind couldn't remember, but his body couldn't forget.

Then of its own accord, the vision popped into his mind: the cruel and uneven grin, the sick-looking color of the skin, the rock star hair, the clothes made out of the skins of God-knows-what. Bloodthirsty and proud of it. Viciously cold eyes, worse than inhuman.

Wraith.

John had been held prisoner, tortured, fed on nightly by a Wraith for a home audience. The life had literally been sucked out of him. He could recall the pain in his joints, ancient football injuries coming back to haunt him, the tiredness settling in his bones as his weary body succumbed to its unnatural aging. And all the while, a fierce determination to never, ever give up, to not go out this way and spend his last moments as a buffet.

John remembered all of this with complete and utter clarity. Being kidnapped by Kolya. Yelling at his team to not give in to the guy's crazy terrorist demands. Forging an alliance with another prisoner. Sharing a brief and disturbing bond with a nameless Wraith. It wasn't that long ago. Less than a year. And John knew all of this, knew it more certainly than anything.

Trying to wake himself up, to make sure he was totally conscious and the memory didn't just fade away like a dream, John got up and started pacing his tiny quarters. He'd gotten sort of accustomed to rarely being left alone. He usually had company when he woke up, Mitchell pretending to read a magazine, or Vala building a house of cards in the middle of the floor. He wasn't sure where they were now, but the silence amplified his thoughts.

John rubbed at his neck and his fingers scraped across the unnatural smoothness to the skin right above where his neck met his shoulder. A scar. He'd discovered a lot of scars since waking up one day with no memory, and he'd tried not to think too much of them. He was in the military, after all, they were the remnants of missions gone wrong and probably things he wouldn't want to think about even if he did remember them. But this scar was different. Two bumps, like a joke bite from a vampire. Or a real bite from a bug.

It hit him all at once. It was like crashing, suddenly becoming very aware of the ground and the sky pressing him in on both sides. It had been a bug, definitely a bug, a crazy thing latching itself to his neck and sapping his strength slowly. A puddlejumper suspended in the event horizon. Beckett's retrovirus. One freaky Wraith chick. John's jaw itched with the memory of scaly skin that had once formed there. He recalled kissing Teyla and throwing Elizabeth against a wall. The system shock of being blasted by Ronon's gun.

The Genii. The Wraith. The Asurans.

Sieges. Alliances.

Teyla. Ronon.

Michael.

Sumner.

Ford.

There was a commotion outside of his door, two people screaming at each other loudly enough that it penetrated the room. "What are you, his pitbull? Let me in, this is important."

"Sheppard's got enough aggravation in his life without throwing you into the mix."

"I'm sure everyone finds your loyalty very charming, but I'm the only person on this base who hasn't forgotten that it was SG-1 who got Sheppard into this trouble in the first place."

"What exactly are you even doing, McKay? You don't actually work here, you know. So far all you've managed to do is get under Sam's feet and irritate the hell out of everyone in a twenty-foot radius."

"I am just as interested in his recovery as anyone else here—" McKay began, but the words got lost as John flung open his door.

"Hey, Sheppard," said Mitchell without missing a beat. "How're things?"

"I remember," John said, the words all clamoring to make it out on the same breath, like a kid at his first show and tell. "I remember Atlantis."

* * *

Vala glowered at her corn, glancing up only occasionally to transfer her snarl to John, who was sitting at the opposite end of the mess with McKay, Beckett, and Weir, completely oblivious to Vala's ire. "I don't understand why he can't sit with us," she complained.

"Let them be," Sam advised quietly. "This isn't about us."

Cameron understood what she wasn't saying, that some things you could only share with your team. Sam had things she went to Jackson and Teal'c about, and Cameron knew better than to intrude.

The former heads of the Atlantis expedition were huddled together in some sort of silent vigil, trying to work through the pain of losing their home. For John, it was fresh, and his newness to the situation only served to open the old wounds in the rest of them. It would have been pathetic if Cameron didn't get it completely.

"As if it isn't," Vala dismissed Sam's comment. "Who did all that work, trying to restore John's memory? It certainly wasn't that..." she flicked her hand at McKay as though he was a bug, at a loss as to how to best describe him, "poor little excuse for a man. But John's acting as though they're a dog's pajamas and we're yesterday's news."

"Cat's pajamas," Cameron corrected. "They're the cat's pajamas."

Vala eyed him for the first time since they'd sat down. "That doesn't make any sense."

"And 'dog's pajamas' does?"

"Well, of course. They have those little doggie coats. Leather jackets, football helmets... why not pajamas?"

"How do you _know_ these things?"

"It's called the 'internet,' Cameron, and it's apparently very popular among people on your planet. You should look into it." She stabbed her fork into her corn viciously, the darker mood taking over again. "What if he doesn't remember?"

"He will eventually," Sam said. "Daniel did. You did."

Cameron opted for a different tactic. "Hey. It's not all bad with just me and Sam, is it?"

Vala grinned at Sam around a mouthful of food. "Not awful."

"Charming," said Sam, and it wasn't clear whether she was commenting on Vala's words or her delivery, but either way, she didn't seem terribly annoyed.

"Not everything's changed," he reminded them. And himself. "He's not dead. We brought him over to the proverbial dark side once, we can do it again. We're not the sort of people that just give up."

Vala glanced back over at John's table. Major Lorne had shown up in the interim since last she'd checked and was now sitting with the group, the five of them talking quietly. The sight seemed to steel Vala's resolve and she took a defiant bite of corn. "Not when there's lives to be saved and treasure to be had."

"You know, when John gets his memory back, I'm gonna tell him you said that." Cameron was disturbingly glad for any and all attempts at levity.

Vala didn't even take a breath to contemplate. "I think he'd be pleased."

John always had found her hilarious. "I'm sure he would."

"I've gotta get back to the lab," said Sam, rising, back to good old workaholic Sam Carter. She had to pass the Atlantis table on the way out, and she paused to say a few things to its constituents that her own teammates couldn't hear. Weir and Beckett smiled at her, Lorne said something that made her laugh, and with a phantom ache, Cameron noted that John's eyes followed her all the way out.

Cameron also registered the despair on Vala's face that she made sure to direct only at the plastic tray in front of her. And he knew nothing he said to her was a lie; he wasn't done with this, none of them were.

* * *

"Well, here we are," Mitchell said unceremoniously, scooping the pile of mail up from the floor by the mail slot. It had scattered when he'd opened the door and he had to bend to gather it all. John caught himself staring at Mitchell's ass and redirected his focus to the cream-colored paint on the walls.

"You know, I shouldn't have to pay my cable bill when I spend half my time on the opposite end of the galaxy," said Mitchell, waving an envelope in John's direction.

"It does seem unfair." John looked around the living room area, determined to keep his eyes on anything but Mitchell.

Mitchell, for his part, was distracted by ripping open his mail. "Why don't you give yourself a tour? It's your place too, after all."

"Right. You know, it's funny, I sort of remember this place a little." John nudged the arm of the couch with his knee. "This is where I sleep?"

For a moment, Mitchell's eyes were hooded. Then the moment passed and he went back to sorting the mail, his words all perfectly even. "Yeah. It pulls out. Not exactly the Ritz, but..."

John flopped down on top of a worn throw pillow. "I've just spent the better part of a few weeks chained to Stargate Command. As long as you don't wake me up to stick something in my arm or scan my brain, I can live with a lumpy pull-out couch."

"Who said anything about lumpy?" Mitchell plopped down next to him. "But yeah, I know what you mean. I spent eleven months in the hospital a few years back, following a bad crash. Physical therapy, the works. It was hell."

John processed this information. He had the feeling he'd heard this before. "Crash."

"Yeah. Dogfight over Antarctica." John nodded. He did remember Antarctica. Mitchell smirked. "Funny thing... if it weren't for SG-1 saving the Ancient outpost, you'd still be chasing penguins at McMurdo."

"Well, thanks for that."

"Hey, I was just a throttle jockey. I ate glass, that was my major contribution."

John had learned enough about Mitchell to know that was what he thought, but not necessarily what was true. He leaned back, let the couch swallow him up. "302?" he asked.

"Yep. It doesn't have the control of a puddlejumper, from what I'm told, but it's a pretty sweet flight."

There was a silence, growing in length, as John came up with nothing to say. Finally he blurted, "Is this weird for you? Having me here, even though I don't really remember this part?"

"You remember some parts. The rest'll come to you. Besides, it was weirder not having you here." Mitchell cracked a smile and patted John's knee as he got to his feet. "You did the dishes, after all."

His first night out of the base, and John couldn't sleep. His memories of Atlantis were clamoring for attention in his mind, pushing at one another to climb to the top of the heap and be reviewed first. And the couch was sort of lumpy, no matter what Mitchell said. John rolled one way, then the other, then back again, for nearly an hour and a half before he gave up and knocked on Mitchell's door. Already ajar, it swung open further. A shaft of moonlight was falling across the other man's knees in the dark room.

"Cameron?" said John. They lived together, they worked together, they were friends, it made sense that once upon a time John had called him Cameron, and there was no sense in not doing it now.

There was a snuffle and a snort as Cameron came to. "Sheppard, that you?" He squinted at John, propping himself up. "What's up? Can't sleep?"

Of course, with Cameron awake, John was feeling a lot less positive about the situation and a lot more idiotic. "Never mind. Didn't mean to wake you. Sorry."

"No, don't be stupid." Cameron got out of bed, leaving a wreckage of twisted sheets in his wake. He padded past John into the kitchenette, the invitation open to join him.

John fell onto a stool. The harsh fluorescent of the light flickering on only bothered him for a second. "Carter and Vala?" he asked, reaching for the first thing that came to mind that didn't involve death.

Cameron, to his credit, didn't beat around the bush on this one. "The restaurant."

"Yeah. Anything I should know?"

"It's not an all-the-time thing. We have highly stressful jobs." Cameron drummed his thumb on the table. "I feel like I should be drinking for this conversation."

John was inclined to agree. He hadn't had a drink in one hell of a long time. "She kissed me," he confessed.

"Who, Sam?"

"No. Vala."

"Right, yeah," Cameron said quickly, nodding rapidly at the countertop. "Sorry, it's... I'm not totally awake yet. Vala, of course."

John knew he was missing something there, but he had other things in mind at the moment. "So what's the deal with her?"

"Haven't we had this conversation before?"

"That was before she started making out with women in public." On the one hand, he wasn't surprised, not really, but on the other hand... well.

"It's Vala, man, I don't know what you want me to say. She makes her own entertainment. Hey." Cameron reached across the island and touched John's arm. "The Carter thing, you should know... It doesn't mean Vala doesn't care about you. Believe me. It's not the first thing you'd guess about her, but she's got a big heart."

Something about this conversation was stretching John to the breaking point. He tried to focus his mind elsewhere, but it ended up going straight to the warm dots on his arm where Cameron's fingertips connected with his heating skin. The surreal nature of it struck him all at once: the two of them sitting in this tiny kitchen in their underwear because John couldn't sleep.

Cameron's hand stayed where it was. John felt like he was looking at the man for the first time, really looking. "We all care about you, John. More than you realize."

John was suddenly filled with the overwhelming and inescapable urge to lean across the counter and kiss him. He bristled, trying to resist the impulse, and Cameron must have felt the muscles coiling in John's arm, because he retreated. "Maybe you should get some sleep."

It was a bad idea to even think about laying one on Mitchell. He'd seemed pretty zen about John and Vala, even about Vala and Carter. But it was one thing to be okay with watching two women hooking up, and it was another thing to get involved with your male roommate. Especially considering they both had the military looming over them. If Cameron was even interested in that sort of thing.

John was insane for even considering it. And the longer he thought about it, the more he worried that Mitchell would go ballistic and kick him out. John definitely didn't want to go back to the base.

Still, as Cameron got up, John couldn't stop himself from watching his progression across the room, the slow, unguarded sway of his hips. John found his own body wanting to follow. As if going back to Cameron's room, as if going back to Cameron's room _with Cameron_, was a perfectly natural, logical, normal thing to do.

John switched off the kitchen light and fumbled his way back to the couch. His eyes adjusted to the dark again eventually, but he still couldn't sleep.

* * *

"Do you think this is a good idea?" asked Samantha quietly, using the slosh of the wine into the glasses as cover for her words.

Vala snatched her glass before Sam finished pouring and the colonel had to act quickly to avoid a mess. "Surely you're not content to sit back and wait and hope this all works out, are you?"

"I think at this point, Cameron's the only one concerned with 'taking it slow,'" Samantha acknowledged with a sad-looking smile and an exorbitant sip from her own glass.

"Lucky Mitchell," Vala said, hopping up on the island countertop. "He gets to follow John around in his underwear while the rest of us have to 'maintain propriety.'" She stuck out her tongue. "He would be the one to suggest it, wouldn't he, since he gets to kidnap John every day and certain members of the team aren't allowed to leave the base without supervision."

"Oh, quiet, you," Samantha said with a little bit of a laugh, leaning forward and giving Vala a quick peck. "Like you've ever maintained propriety."

Vala smiled and wrapped the hand not clutching her wine around Samantha's neck to draw her in properly, eager to prove her right. The only bright side to her little display at the restaurant, and well worth receiving Colonel Mitchell's wrath upon their return, was that at least she and Samantha didn't have to hide their affection for each other from John.

"Careful now, you're giving me ideas," John said, coming into the kitchen.

"I hope so," said Vala, winking.

John, to her immense pleasure, colored around his ears. "I just came for snacks," he attempted to deflect.

"You think we're not capable of bringing snacks from here," she demonstrated the lack of distance by walking her fingers across her palm, "all the way over there?"

"You seemed otherwise occupied." And there crept that familiar and oh-so-delicious grin. "I didn't want our petty hunger pangs to interrupt."

"Are you guys coming back in here or what?" Cameron called impatiently from the couch.

"Patience, Colonel."

"Yeah, that's great, coming from you."

Ignoring Cameron's taunts and pasting on a sweet smile, Vala waited until John had settled down before she squeezed next to him.

"Hey, I remembered something else this morning," John said, staring at the beer bottle in his hands calmly but unable to hide the clear excitement in his voice. "You guys came to Atlantis once, right? You three and Dr. Jackson. Took Rodney off my hands, blew up a Hive ship... best day of my life."

"Pretty sweet day for the rest of us, too," Cameron said, with a laugh that was both happy and sad.

"So how much are you remembering?" asked Sam.

"Bits and pieces," said John. "They come in waves, sort of a ripple effect. I'll remember one thing, and it'll trigger all sorts of other stuff. I'm trying to fill in the blanks with all the mission reports people keep making me read, but they don't tell me jack about the rest of my life."

"Still, sounds promising," said Cameron, exchanging a telling look with Sam. Vala knew what they were thinking: if John remembered SG-1's visit to Atlantis, then it could trigger memories of the events that occurred after that momentous meeting. Vala shifted on the couch, felt the press of John's thigh against hers. For perhaps the first time since the accident, he didn't shy away from the contact, just smiled down at her.

"Well, that's why we're here, isn't it?" said Samantha with a brightness Vala could no longer gauge as genuine. "To celebrate the return of John's memory."

"The slow return," John amended.

"Hey man, slow is better than nothing at all," Cameron said. "You worked hard." He clinked the mouth of his beer bottle against John's.

Vala drained her wine glass and patted John's leg. "Tell us all about our visit to your lovely city," she encouraged.

"Weren't you there?" he asked with amusement.

"Yes. But I like to hear you detail my many good points."

"I need more wine," said Samantha. Cameron excused himself and followed her into the kitchen. Vala watched over John's shoulder for a moment as Sam poured herself another glass, but when it became clear the two of them weren't planning on returning just yet, she leaned into John.

"So, tell me how wonderfully attractive and compelling you found me," she said.

"I thought you were trouble," he said with a smirk.

She waved the notion off. "Everyone thinks that, and they're usually right."

"Well, if it's any consolation, I thought you were hot, and worth getting into trouble with."

"That is excellent to hear," Vala beamed at him. Colonel Sheppard was very adorable when he was cheerful, she found, and it wasn't a state of mind he'd much been in recently. She was sure a few more pleasant memories had cropped up amongst the darker ones of his time in Atlantis. Of course, the company he was keeping couldn't hurt.

On one of her follow-up glances back, Vala noted with mild satisfaction that Cameron's lips brushed against Samantha's cheek. She was so very sick of everyone being sad all the time, holding each other at a distance. John was better, but Cameron was still moping and Sam continued to be filled with doubt. Vala was bored and irritated by the whole matter.

"I didn't know anything about you going in," she confessed. "I wasn't a member of SG-1 and they weren't terribly fond of telling me things. Although Samantha did complain about Dr. McKay heavily."

"You should hear him talking about her."

"Oh, I have. And I've never heard respect sound quite so... lecherous."

John laughed out loud at this and the sound filled her up.

"Are we missing anything?" asked Cameron, squeezing Vala's shoulder as he passed.

"John and I are just catching up," she said with a secret smile. "He was telling me all about how when he first met Colonel Carter, he had no idea how beautiful and intelligent she'd be."

Sam raised an amused brow. "Oh really?"

"My words exactly," John said easily, the sort of response they were used to from him, warm and familiar, dripping with a casual affection. And Vala recognized the joyous smiles on the other two's faces to be quite authentic. She pressed against John, pleased to see things weren't as bleak as she'd originally thought.

* * *

"How'd it go, Sheppard?" Cameron asked as SG-8 ambled down the ramp. The blue glow of the event horizon fluttered across his face for a few seconds before the wormhole snapped shut.

"Can't complain," John said. "Where's General Landry?"

"Even he leaves occasionally. Carter and I are in charge in the interim." Cameron pointed up at the observation deck, where Sam waved at them from behind Sergeant Harriman's shoulder. "Anything major to report?"

"No, sir," John said, the word tripping awkwardly off his tongue and not without irony. "It was depressingly by the book."

"Well, you take the man out of the Pegasus galaxy..." Cameron began, then seemed to think better of finishing it. "Report to the infirmary, debriefing's in an hour."

"Gotcha," said John, starting to undo his vest as he headed for the door, then stopped. He was used to these flashes by now, things taking him by surprise in the most innocuous places, the tiniest triggers suddenly reawakening something from when he was ten, or twenty, or thirty. The AFBs from his youth, Afghanistan, Antarctica, Atlantis, Colorado Springs. He never knew quite what it was going to be. This time, it was Cameron, promising him a drink. Sam smiling at him in the hall. Vala leaning out of the window of a car.

"Sheppard?"

John turned and looked back at Cameron, seeing the concern on his face, then very clearly remembering what it felt like to kiss the man. It wasn't just the product of a lonely late-night fantasy on Cameron's pull-out couch, either, but a memory of something that actually happened.

"Sorry, got a little distracted there," he barely fumbled out the answer, glad the rest of his team had already left for the infirmary so they didn't have to witness this. He'd undergone physicals and psych evals, and swore up and down to anyone who would listen that he was completely fine. John really didn't need anyone to think he wasn't keeping it together.

By the time John was done being poked and prodded by the Stargate Command medical staff, he'd managed to convince himself he just had an overactive imagination. He shuffled his way back for the debriefing, hoping he'd no longer be swamped with images of Mitchell's face hovering dangerously near his own. That was not the sort of meeting he wanted to sit through with an audience.

John wondered if he'd missed some vital memo, or had been knocked out at some point before, during, or after passing through the 'gate, because the briefing room was empty when he entered it. John at last spotted Mitchell and Carter just beyond the star chart marking Landry's office. They were standing close to each other, familiarly close, in a way that made John's chest throb. Their lips were moving, but their voices were so low the murmurs didn't carry into the next room, even with the door slightly ajar. John hovered, wondering if he should leave before he was spotted, but it didn't matter, because Mitchell had glanced to his right and lifted his hand at their visitor.

"Hey, John, where's the rest of your team?" asked Cameron genially.

"Uh," said John, quite lucky to get even that much out, because his mind was no longer playing that game. He heard his name on Cameron's lips, from somewhere else altogether, far away and from a different time. His brain looped together a montage of Cameron saying his name, soft and filled with laughter, hard and filled with a desperate need John knew all too well. He didn't know where this soundtrack came from, but it was so detailed he was no longer certain it was just his imagination. "I don't—"

But his answer didn't much matter, because Bambus, Wallace, and Hartford ambled into the room with their usual lack of grace and timing. They all took their seats and John faked his way through a debriefing, still trying to cope with the slideshow pounding in his head. It was like any other memory-burst, one following another following another in a chain, except these ones were distinctly personal and nothing he was comfortable admitting to the base psychiatrist. He got the impression that watching Carter and Vala kissing in the restaurant was neither the first time something like it had happened nor the first time he'd witnessed it.

His distraction did not go unnoticed, however, because when his team left the room after the meeting, Carter and Mitchell remained. Carter frowned at him like she was personally responsible for his well-being. "Is everything okay?"

'Okay' wasn't exactly the word he'd thought of using. "Disappointed," he said. "I'd sort of been expecting more." Not a lie, not exactly, but nowhere near approaching the full truth.

"I know the Ori are a different bag than the Wraith, but we have our high-action moments," said Cameron.

"Right, I know," John said, now feeling like an idiot in addition to feeling unsettled. While it was certainly true a part of his body still craved intensity, in truth, his thoughts were on the farthest thing from the villain of the week. The echo of Cameron Mitchell rattled around his head, muttering _John_ in a lazy, low voice that was not exactly friendship, and it was hard to concentrate on much else.

John supposed he could have asked them about it, begged for any sort of context for this, but he remembered all of the times he'd attempted to question Cameron about Vala and had been stonewalled. Somehow he figured Cameron would be even more closed-off about his own personal life. It didn't help that he was acting commander for the next few hours. And while John liked Carter considerably, he didn't know how deeply his ties to her ran, or how intense her loyalty to Cameron was, on- or off-base. It was better not to risk it.

"It could just be the strain of being back on active duty after so long," Carter mused, cutting into his thoughts. "Maybe you should just go home and rest."

While the idea of being stagnant again so soon made him want to scream, John figured he could do with some time alone to think. It was nice not having an escort, but it was a little disturbing, being by himself in this apartment he didn't really feel was his. He recognized his things, positioned here and there like trail markers, but damn if he could find the path they were supposed to indicate. The entire place screamed of Cameron Mitchell.

John's head ached from the effort of trying to sort through the slew of memories he kept getting. Nothing concrete held any of the flashes together. John wandered the empty apartment, trying to acclimate himself to this life he had apparently started living.

Why Cameron, was the question? John could have had his own apartment, once getting assigned to Stargate Command. Why move in with Mitchell instead of living by himself? It wasn't that he was anxious to have people around; he'd had his own quarters in Atlantis, after all. And while John wasn't going to deny his unfortunate attraction to Cameron, he doubted he would just follow the guy home in the vague hopes of getting laid. Not to mention Cameron must have had his own motivations for offering the place to John, since it was too small to comfortably house two people.

The evidence was becoming more and more compelling. Cameron always seemed sort of ill at ease around John, something closed-off in his eyes, even when the two of them were joking around and everything seemed to be relaxed. There were too many factors, too many puzzle pieces that didn't seem to slide into the gaps in John's memory. The Vala thing, the Carter thing, the Cameron thing. He couldn't shake the notion it was all linked. There was a thick, twisted history in there, dark and weird enough that no one wanted to tell him about it, which convinced John all the more that he was at the heart of it.

Defeated, he sank onto the couch and turned the pages of a three-month-old _Sports Illustrated_ without noticing content. He came out of his trance only when he heard the scratch of a key in the front lock. It was becoming second nature to jump at innocuous sounds again, now that he was back to being plagued by nightmares. It took him awhile sometimes before he remembered there were no Wraith in this galaxy and for all intents and purposes, Earth was technically safe. Then again, getting his memories back all at once made the wounds too fresh.

Cameron made an instant beeline for the couch and flopped unceremoniously next to John, oblivious to their proximity, although John was hyperaware. Brief contact made him squirm like a junior high kid with a crush.

Cameron swiped a hand over his face and groaned out, "And I thought leading SG-1 was hard."

"Bad day at work?" John asked.

"SG-23 came in hot, about four hours ahead of schedule, and one of the members of 17 got an enormous chunk bitten out of his leg by some indigenous space bear." He whapped John's shoulder. "Stop laughing. This is all going to reflect poorly on my command some day, I'm sure."

The smile he shot John was so genuine: self-deprecating, open, silly, and John's insides flopped ridiculously. Maybe he was imagining all that stuff in his head, but this part was authentic, the attraction was completely bona fide. "Somehow, I doubt that," he said, struggling to maintain the loose rhythm of the conversation and not show his hand. "You could probably turn this into a positive. You know, quick thinking in the face of..."

"Space bears?"

"Bites from space bears. How to properly administer space first aid."

"Space first aid?" giggled Cameron. "Man, our jobs are crazy." He was laughing robustly now, and the sound made John's body buzz from head to toe. He couldn't take this anymore. He had to know for sure.

He didn't stop to think, just rasped, "Mitchell," and grabbed hold of the first solid mass his fingers touched. He yanked Cameron's body towards him before either of them could get away. The kiss was as much a statement as a question, and there was a spark of relief when Cameron didn't push him away. No, he was definitely kissing John back and with the ease of someone who'd done it before and had learned the nuances of John's body.

"I have told you a thousand times to call me Cam," Cameron chastised as they pulled apart, his eyes opening lazily.

John definitely had his answer, but they'd gone from point A to maybe point E or F, and John couldn't even muster any sort of pleasure from what should have been a very satisfying kiss, too mired in shock and confusion. It was much easier than he'd been expecting, too easy, as though Cameron had been waiting for it to happen, and that sent up alarms. "Have you?" he asked tightly.

Cameron's own expression went from pleasure to uncertainty to horror to embarrassment. "You don't..." he began. "But that..."

"Don't what?" said John, feeling hot inside for all the wrong reasons. "Don't remember? What exactly am I supposed to remember, Cameron? What the hell are you hiding from me?"

"Shit," Cameron muttered, stiff now, putting distance between them, going into panic mode. "I thought for sure..."

John was too angry to enjoy the satisfaction of being right. "You thought I knew the truth," he said flatly. "Sorry, Mitchell. You're the only one who does."

Cameron rubbed at the bridge of his nose and said nothing.

"So you and me," John continued, on a roll, "we have a history. And not just a roommate history."

"Yeah. Sort of." Cameron looked haggard.

"And you didn't think maybe I'd want to know that?" He could feel the anger rising in him like mercury in a thermometer, and he wasn't altogether sure he wanted to stave it off before it burst. "So, what, you jerk me around instead, tell me I had something with Vala when it's obvious she's with Carter? You shove Atlantis down my throat but can't be bothered to mention that I was in a relationship? Meanwhile I'm beginning to wonder if I'm crazy because I keep seeing this stuff and I don't know if it's my memory or my imagination."

"Look, I wanted to tell you. Believe me, this wasn't easy for me, either. But it was never the right time."

"You don't get to make that choice for me, Mitchell," John snapped. "It's _my_ head."

"All right," said Cameron tightly, "maybe I should have said something sooner. But what exactly did you expect me to say? Like you don't have enough problems with all the stuff you're expected to remember, I should just throw your personal life into the mix?"

"Why do you assume I wouldn't want to know about my own life? Because you're a guy? Because we work together? Live together? Because of the Air Force? I made those choices for myself, I have the right to know about them."

"It has nothing to do with that. There's more to it than you know."

"Then _tell_ me!" yelled John, finally losing it. "Christ, Mitchell, do you know what I do for a living? My job? Maybe someone should be protecting me from that, but I sure as hell don't need anyone protecting me from the finer details of my sex life." It was funny, five minutes ago, all John had wanted to do was kiss Cameron Mitchell. Now all he wanted to do was deck him.

He waited for answers; Cameron's mouth was hanging open a fraction of an inch as though he wanted to speak. But the words never came. Cameron's jaw clamped stubbornly shut and he looked away. If this was a game for power or control, John had won.

But he didn't want victory, he wanted answers. John's fist closed so tightly it nearly turned inside-out. Cameron's pretty face remained untouched, however. His jaw remained clenched without John to pry it open for him. "I'm glad you're more concerned about your career than your own friends," said John, a verbal punch instead of a literal one. "But if this is your idea of friendship, then thanks but no thanks. Don't do me any more favors." He turned away, fumbled for his jacket.

"John—" Cameron cast that net wildly, blindly into the dark, pleading for John to fall in.

John yanked the door open so quickly he wouldn't have been surprised if it tore off its hinges. "I really don't need this shit," was his parting shot, and he slammed it shut.

It was epically unfair. John didn't even remember dating Cameron, but he got the distinct feeling they'd just broken up.

* * *

Sam's teammates had always insisted she had a 'way' with people. Which was nice in theory, but not always true. On any given day, any of them were capable of making a necessary connection, so really, Sam was no better mediator than anyone else. She wasn't entirely sure why Cameron had decided to call her of all people for damage control, but wasn't about to shy away from the responsibility. Cameron hadn't really offered details, just that John 'knew too much' and had stormed off.

There was a bar not too far from Cameron and John's apartment that Cameron never went to because he had deemed it 'skeevy,' but Sam knew there had been a few instances since John's return where he'd needed a place to be alone. She went there on a hunch, and found John sitting at a table in the back, glaring into his half-empty beer glass. Sam settled into the chair across from him apprehensively. He didn't look up, but he didn't tell her to get the hell out, either.

"Did Mitchell send you?"

Sam was determined to start this off on the right foot, since things had clearly gone so badly already. "Yes," she said, "although he didn't explain anything."

"Yeah, that seems pretty common with him."

And although she'd already guessed the reason for this, she now knew for sure. "What happened?"

"Were he and I involved before I lost my memory?"

Sam hadn't been expecting him to be quite so straightforward about it, but figured they were overdue. "Yes and no."

"He suggested Vala and I had a thing, too," he said grimly.

"Yes. You did." Sam found herself pulled taut. She wasn't quite prepared to have all of this to rest on her shoulders. She'd naively, foolishly hoped that John would just get all of those particular memories back one night and everything would go back to the way they were. She was the scientist. She was supposed to know better than that.

"And of course there's you and Vala," he said. He finally looked up from his glass, stunning her with the lines in his face she'd never seen quite so prominent before. "Did I know about this? Was I okay with this? Did it happen before or after the thing with me and Mitchell?"

"What do you think?" she asked, trying to buy time.

"I think I'd appreciate a straight answer from _someone_," he said darkly.

Sam couldn't help feeling a stab of guilt at that one. He had a point. She took a deep breath to steel herself, resenting her friends for making her field this, but maybe they were right, maybe she was the one people listened to. It was a good a time as any to try this theory out. Sam lay her hand over John's, hoping she still had the right to touch him intimately. "It happened at the same time. You, me, Cameron, Vala. All of us."

There was a light of recognition as he figured out the words she couldn't quite bring herself to say, but that was it. John remained silent for a long time, and Sam held herself perfectly still waiting for the fallout. She could feel the muscles in his hands tense under hers, fingertips gripping into the rough tabletop. Through all of it, though, Sam was surprised to be so relieved. She'd been carrying that particular weight for a long time.

And then John slumped back into his chair, battered. "Okay," he said hollowly. "I'd sort of been working towards that, I guess, but it didn't make much sense."

"How much do you remember?" she asked.

"Not enough, apparently."

"I'm sorry we didn't tell you," she said. "We should have."

"Who gets the right to decide if my job is more important than my personal life?"

"No one. We were trying to protect you."

"You realize that sounds like a load of crap. This is a lot easier to stomach than the idea I've been fighting Wraith in another galaxy for the past three years."

A smile fluttered at Sam's lips but didn't stay. "Is it?"

John didn't have an answer for that. "The Washington thing, it was the first time, wasn't it." His tone said he wasn't expecting her to answer, but she nodded anyway. "And here I thought I was doing you a favor by keeping your secret," he sighed.

"You were," she assured him. "It was just a small part of a bigger secret."

"Right."

"John," said Sam carefully, knowing full well Cameron and Vala wouldn't be too pleased when they found out what she was offering him, "if you want to walk away from this, you can. We'll understand. Well, maybe Vala won't, but... It's a lot to take, I know. This is the icing on the cake of a lot of lies and deception. You deserve better. You've been a lot through the past few weeks."

John's hand turned over under hers, fingers reaching around to clasp hers awkwardly, his thumb moving over her palm. It wasn't a John sort of gesture, but he was still trying to get in the habit of being John. He looked so tired and it made her heart break a little. "Don't have to tell me that twice," he muttered. "But you know, don't think I didn't notice you guys were always there. It was nice having you around."

"John, this is up to you. Whatever you want," she said, squeezing his hand with conviction.

"I want you guys to be honest with me," he said.

"We can manage that, I think," she said.

"And I wouldn't mind getting out of here."

"Okay." Sam obligingly stood, following John away from his half-full glass and out of the bar.

Night had long since fallen, the dim image of a waning moon slipping behind gray clouds. The dead sidewalk was spotted by a few flickering streetlamps and the red glow of the neon advertising different beer brands. Sam hugged her torso for protection against the chill, missing even the minute warmth of John's touch back in the bar. There was silence between them still, though not half as awkward as it had been in their moments alone since John's accident. In fact, though a little strained, things were felt nearly normal again.

"Can I ask you something?" he said, more in a comfort zone, surrounded by the dark.

"Of course."

"What made you agree to this sort of... arrangement? I mean, no offense, but Vala doing this kinda makes sense, and Mitchell..." He didn't finish that particular thought, perhaps not ready to admit that maybe he understood Cameron better than he thought. "But you, you're not..."

"I'm not what?" she prompted, amused despite herself.

"Well, I was going to say 'crazy,' but when I say it out loud, it sounds bad."

It was a good question, the answer to which she hadn't thought about in awhile. "Our job is so messy," she said. "And unpredictable. It doesn't really offer you the option to have a social life. Not that I was ever really good at that sort of thing, anyway." Sam blushed in the darkness. "I've been engaged twice. Neither worked out."

"Combination loneliness and convenience, then?" he said, but his tone was neither judgmental or accusatory. More like he was trying to feel his way through the situation.

"In the beginning," she said. "But circumstances change."

"Is it worth it?"

"I don't regret it," she said. "You three are my friends and I trust you. That counts for a lot." She grinned. "Fun counts, too."

"I should hope so." John shoved his hands in his pockets.

"It's nice, though," said Sam. "Having someone who understands, I mean. We're not allowed to talk about our jobs, and it's not like anyone would understand it, anyway. So it's nice to connect on that level with someone who already gets the work thing. Sort of a two birds with one stone deal."

"You and Mitchell have been friends for awhile, right?" said John. "That I get. But Vala? I mean, you don't strike me as..."

Sam reddened again. "She's... persistent," she said, an answer that barely scraped the surface, but John laughed.

"I'd learned that, yeah." He stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, falling under a shadow. "Was recruiting me her idea?"

"Not exactly the term I'd use."

"You seduced me."

Sam smiled in the general direction of her feet, embarrassed. "Okay, that's true. Yes, it was her idea. She was really enamored of you after we got back from Atlantis. We couldn't stop talking about the beauty of the city, even Cameron was sort of thrilled, but no, all Vala could talk about was 'that cute colonel with the messy hair.' You really left an impression, John," she teased.

"Just with Vala?" he asked.

Sam thought she knew what he was getting at; since the incident with the device, Cameron and Vala were admittedly the ones that spent the most time alone with John. Of course, they weren't up to their ears in alien devices. "No, with me and Cameron, too."

"That wasn't exactly the impression I've been getting lately..."

Sam gave him a sideways look. "Some of us aren't as good at this sort of thing as certain others of us," she said.

"You seem to be doing okay with it now." After a hesitant moment, John's hand landed on her shoulder and squeezed a little.

The gesture encouraged her to relax for the first time since Cameron had called her. "Well, they warmed you up for me," she dismissed.

"I kinda like your method better than theirs, though. At least it's honest." John's voice was still tinged with bitterness, and Sam hated having her loyalty called into question like this. She knew where he was coming from, but it wasn't as though Cameron had outright lied. There were a lot more things to consider than just John's feelings on the whole matter. But John was too angry now to see reason, and she didn't want to risk him hating two of them instead of just one.

"But hey, I should say thanks, though right?"

"What?" she said, the word barely past her mouth before John swept her body to his.

Sam slid as easily into his embrace as if she'd expected this. She allowed herself the luxury of simply reveling in the physical contact, the first part of the evening that wasn't painfully uncomfortable. The tension flowed out of her for a few sweet minutes, eking into subspace to rematerialize later, she was sure. John kissed her slowly, almost as though he was trying to figure out how best to do it, but it was clear a part of him still remembered. Relief flooded her, bit by bit, taste by taste.

"I see you're feeling better," she said. "That was unexpected."

"Sorry," he said. "But it didn't seem fair. I've kissed Vala and Cameron by now, and well, honestly, I didn't think you'd ever ask."

That much was true. Still, it wasn't fair either that she got to be with John like this while Cameron was sitting back in their apartment staring sullenly at the walls. "We should head back," she said. "You should at least talk to him, listen to what he has to say."

John passed a hand over his face in lieu of actually committing one way or another.

"John, keeping secrets is part of the job. None of us are particularly thrilled with it. And before you go around crucifying Cameron for ingrained behavior, don't forget that it wasn't exactly easy for us, either." Sam had been forced to sit by and watch John suffer, unable to do anything about it, unable even to admit the full depth of the pain she felt just from watching. Going through her day pretending he was just another coworker, and nothing more, while her heart broke.

Cameron's apartment building loomed and they stood in its shadow. This was the do-or-die moment. "Are you right about everything?" asked John.

"Some people think so."

"Okay," he said, and headed boldly for the door.

No sooner had the two of them stepped past the threshold of Cameron's apartment than Vala launched herself at John. Sam hadn't expected her presence, but wasn't particularly surprised by it. John staggered back a step from the sudden weight, but managed not to drop Vala, and even squeezed out a chuckle. "Yay!" Vala proclaimed, "you're back! And I mean _back_ back," she added, tapping his head for effect.

"It's not one hundred percent yet."

"What percent is it? I need to know how hard I have to work." She wriggled against him, legs wrapped around his waist.

"You've never had to work all that hard, have you," said John with a distinct amount of that dry tone they knew so well.

"Not with you." Vala grinned and kissed him affectionately. "So, did you and Sam have fun?"

"Ah." John shifted, as did the mood of the room, and he moved to release her gently. "Sam cleared a few things up for me," he said with a significant look in her direction. Sam kept his eyes only, not eager to see how her teammates reacted to this news or its delivery. "But there's some stuff I think merits discussion." He folded his arms.

"Yes, that. We're all sleeping together," said Vala.

Cameron coughed loudly, caught off-guard.

"Yeah, figured that one out," said John. "I was a little more concerned with the fact you all felt compelled to not actually tell me about it."

"Do you blame us?" Cameron asked from the very outskirts of the living room. His posture was closed off and threatened he might leave at any moment. John's irritation deepened into a full-on scowl when he turned to face the other man; Sam felt a chill. "It wasn't entirely about our jobs, you know," said Cameron. "We didn't know how you might take a revelation like this. It's not every day you wake up from a coma in a secret government facility with all of your memory gone. And just out of curiosity, how would you break it to someone that hey, by the way, he doesn't remember it, but he's sleeping with three of his coworkers?"

"At the same time," Vala added. It as hard to determine whether she was oblivious to the fact she wasn't helping, or if she knew this and was trying to use it to ease the tension.

For his part, John didn't even acknowledge the awkward position Cameron found himself in. Sam got the impression she was catching the rematch of the argument that had found John seeking answers in the bottom of a glass. Even Vala was cautiously staying out of it, perched on the arm of the couch and pulling at a thread in her pants.

"You knew I'd be getting back my memories one at a time. You knew they wouldn't be coming in order. You could've given me some sort of warning so it wouldn't take me by surprise. Treat me like an adult. Treat me like a person! Show me some actual respect, some trust."

"Dammit, John!" Cameron yelled with such force they all jumped. "This isn't about that, don't you get it? You're so happy throwing around the blame, saying that we're putting ourselves before you. It's not like that. Our jobs are on the line, and you know, you _know_ nothing's more important than what we do. This is life or death on the galactic goddamn scale and none of us are willing to give that up. Not even you. And you know that!"

"Cameron," Sam tried to interject feebly. He had originally brought her along as mediator, she should at least make the attempt.

"No, Sam. I'm thrilled you got to go off gallivanting with Sheppard and having all kinds of fun, but you weren't here when he was telling me I was a bastard for putting my job before him." Vala pulled her knees to her chest with a pinched, childlike look.

Cameron took a deep breath. "What would you do if they told you that you couldn't go through the Stargate ever again?" he directed himself at John again, this time quiet and cold. "Don't think they'd just let you walk off and have a normal life, as if you'd even want it. Both the NID and the Trust would be tailing you, because they both think you're a liability. Same for me and Sam. And Vala they'd just cage in Area 51. So no, John, we didn't tell you. It's not because we thought you couldn't handle the truth, and it wasn't because we didn't trust you, and it wasn't even because we were afraid of losing our jobs. It was because there was, there _is_, a lot more at stake here than you were capable of understanding at the time."

His tirade apparently over, Cameron sank wearily against the wall for support. His neck flushed red and he breathed shallowly.

"What are you going to do now, Mitchell?" said Vala, still not looking at anyone, a rare dark bitterness to her voice. "Are you going to hit him? Will that make you feel better?"

"Vala," plead Sam.

"Well, it's not as though he's helping," Vala defended herself. "He can't go on and on telling me not to overwhelm John, and then just scream at him for five minutes."

"Yeah, Vala, like you were really restraining yourself," said Cameron, rolling his eyes.

Vala opened her mouth to retaliate, but Sam had had enough. "All right! Time out. John, could you go in the bedroom please? And Vala, too."

"What, are you punishing us?" griped Cameron. He wasn't the only one having issues with her orders; Vala seemed quite put out, and John was just pissed.

"If that's what it takes," Sam said simply, crossing her arms and daring him to contradict her. "I don't really think any of us needs the extra stress right now, so maybe it'd be a good idea for everyone to cool down."

The door shut behind Vala and John, and Cameron said, "You know there won't be much 'cooling down' going on with the both of them in there."

"That's their business," she said. "I was trying to save them both the trouble of having you punch them."

"I wasn't going to punch anyone," he said petulantly.

"Sit your ass down and shut up, Mitchell."

"Which one of us is leading SG-1 again?" was his comment. But he dutifully complied. Sam put her hand on his thigh as a quiet reminder that they still cared about each other. Even if they were all pissed off.

"God, Sam, I don't know what I'm supposed to do anymore. The IOA's breathing down Landry's neck, which means he's breathing down my neck. I've got Liz Weir shooting me doe-eyed looks, and McKay... well, all right, McKay's probably bothering you more than me." Sam had to smile at that; while Rodney certainly did like to follow her around and offer commentary, she was sort of used to it, whereas mere mention of the man seemed to make the vein in Cameron's forehead throb. "I hate coming home, because either the place is empty, or John and I are polite strangers. All day I've got to watch you mooning at your computer... I don't even know what to do with Vala half the time... I don't know, I guess I just assumed things would go back to the way they were."

"We always knew that was a long shot," she pointed out.

"Yeah, well, SG-1 has been known for defying odds."

"No one expects you to hold us all together," she said. "The whole point of a team —or a relationship— is that we work together."

"Same old speech, Sam."

"And has it ever been untrue?" She kissed his temple. "We're in the home stretch, Cam. You can't be patient just a little bit longer?"

"Have you ever known me to be patient?"

Sam sighed. "He doesn't need you yelling at him. Even," she raised her voice to stave off his oncoming protest, "if you're right."

"How was he?" he asked, slightly mollified by being called right. "When you told him."

"Confused," she chose her words carefully, trying to remember John's exact reaction. "But not surprised. I guess he's been getting flashes. He seemed pretty accepting. For a bit, though, he was acting like the old John. It was..." She melted back into the couch, sagging in shameful relief. "It was nice."

"Yeah," he said. "I had that, for a few seconds. It was good."

"Are you still pissed off?"

Cameron leaned his head against her shoulder. "Trying not to be. Sam, am I a bastard?"

"You mean in general? Or just now?" He laughed a little and it vibrated down the whole of her arm. "You care so much about everything, Cam, it's bound to pull you in two sometimes."

"That's the pot calling the kettle black," he muttered. He took one of her hands in both of his own, smoothed the skin over, became familiar with it. "Maybe it's our curse."

"Overextension?"

"Caring too much."

"I hate to break it to you, Cam, but this is what we do. Would any of this be worth it if we didn't care?"

Cameron didn't say anything for a long time, but she knew what he was thinking, and she agreed.

* * *

"You agree with me, right?" John said, pacing. "He's a patronizing jackass."

Frankly, this was behavior she would have expected from Cameron rather than John. Cameron was the one who took things personally, who held grudges and victories with equal passion. At least in terms of their relationship, John had a tendency to let things slide.

"I can't really speak to that," Vala offered, drawing herself further into the center of the mattress and watching John's progression with interest. "Sit down."

John didn't sit down, however. He barely even acknowledged she'd spoken.

"He was scared, John," she cut in, loudly and sharply enough that he at least stopped moving. "We were all scared. You didn't remember us, we had no idea what you might think of what we were proposing... we were afraid you'd say no." Vala looked at the closed door, picturing Cameron and Samantha beyond that, wondering what they'd say. "It's not exactly what one might call a 'normal' arrangement. At least, not by your Earth standards. And it's a lot to ask of a person. You were being given a second chance. Maybe you'd want to start over, try for something a little more normal." She didn't mean to well up, but she'd come in here to convince him to stay, and now it sounded more like she was convincing him to go.

Unfortunately, John saw. "Hey, don't go getting all emotional over me."

"Far too late for that, Colonel Sheppard."

The bed frame rattled beneath her as John sat down. His arms slithered around her waist. "You're not the crying type," he said, although that wasn't altogether true. "What happened when I was gone?"

"You weren't gone," she said, trying to eliminate the shake in her voice, semi-successfully.

"I wasn't here," he said. "Not all the way. Come on, Vala. It wasn't all bad. Think of something happy. Don't make me make it an order."

Vala had to laugh at that one. Their branch of the relationship had consisted largely of silliness and poor impulse control. It seemed redundant to point out, "I don't listen to you."

"Don't I know it." He kissed her neck. "But Vala, the world doesn't stop spinning just because I lost my head for awhile."

His words made her heart beat out a drum solo in her chest, the loneliness resonating, and she curled helplessly into his embrace. "Maybe it does."

"Don't say things like that."

"I really like having you around, John," she said, painfully honest with him in a way she could never quite manage with the others. "You're going to forgive Mitchell, aren't you? He's stupid, you know, but he doesn't mean to be..."

"A bastard?" John guessed the rest. His fingers filled in the slots between her ribs, wrapping her up tightly and carefully.

"That, too." Vala shifted her way onto John's lap, feeling his warmth all around her. "Did I ever tell you about the time he stole a motorcycle and raced to my rescue? I stole his pants and handcuffed him to a hotel bed."

"Remind me never to rescue you."

Vala smiled. "I could make it worth your while."

She expected him to continue flirting, but instead he said, "Are you trying to illustrate just what a not-bastard Mitchell is?"

"I'm trying to remind you how entertaining he can be, and how you don't want to just kick him to the curb."

John sighed, deeply, taking Vala's body along for the ride. "Entertainment value is highly prized, huh?"

"You know," she continued relentlessly, "it's only all right if Mitchell is mad at me." Cameron was very amusing when he got mad at Vala, already resigned to the idea she wouldn't change her mind.

"I can't control who he's mad at."

"But you can control who you're mad at." As an added incentive, she wriggled her fingers down into his waistband. "It'll be better when you're on good terms again, I promise."

"I seem to remember this about you," he said wryly. Her hands, small and fast, good for stealing and seducing, made it all the way to his hip before he finally swatted her away. "Fine."

"Good," she breathed, relieved. "But before you go... now that you remember how..." Vala wound herself further around his body and gave him something to remember.

* * *

Cameron wasn't surprised whatsoever to find Vala's tongue down John's throat when he entered the room. They all had their own manners of negotiation. Sam talked things out, Cameron was getting sort of fond of his short fuse, and Vala was Vala. If she couldn't flirt someone into submission, she'd kick them in the balls and run away. The four of them balanced each other in a lot of ways, but Cameron and John were the most alike of any two.

So Cameron wasn't surprised to see the irritation flaring in John's eyes, either. Only thing he didn't know was if John's anger stemmed from being interrupted or who was doing the interrupting.

"This wasn't a matter of trust," he attempted to explain. He knew John had his six, in more ways than one, and he'd never questioned it. "This was... Aw, hell, Sheppard, what do you want me to say that I haven't said already? If you were in my position, you would've done the same."

Cameron waited for Sam's reproach, but it never came.

"You lied to me," John said. "You brought me here, made me sleep on that couch, and you lied to me. I thought I was going insane."

"Like I was going to lure you into my bed when McKay or Dr. Weir could have shown up at any moment," Cameron scoffed.

"Is that what this is about?" Clearly realizing he couldn't be that impressive an opposing force with Vala wrapped around him like a Christmas ribbon, John disentangled himself and stood up. Vala replaced him by clutching Cameron's pillow. Sam hovered just outside of the bedroom. Neither seemed willing to go this particular round. For the moment, Cameron was on his own.

"What," John said derisively, "were you afraid Rodney or Elizabeth was going to tattle on us to Landry?"

Cameron could've rolled with that one, kept hashing away at petty arguments until one or the both of them stormed off again. But it no longer seemed worth it.

"I don't have the right to play with your life like that," he said finally. "That's what this is about, John. Getting back your memories of the Stargate program, those were our orders. But the rest of it is yours, it's all yours, and we don't have the right to play God and play with your head and dictate how the rest of your life goes. You made the choice the first time around. If you'd said no, we would've let it go and be done with it. And we would've done it again this time."

Cameron respected John. He cared about him immensely. If he was going to lose him, it was sure as hell going to be on John's terms, no one or nothing else's.

And he could see it in Vala's eyes, Sam's eyes. They felt the same. This was an all or nothing deal, and it rested on John. Just like the first time.

John was silent, judging each of their reactions in turn and coming to the same conclusion as Cameron. He scratched at the back of his scalp, impossible hair wriggling slightly. "Well."

* * *

John came downstairs to find Cameron occupying Sam's kitchen, praying to a steaming coffee mug. "Mornin'."

"You're up early," Cameron said, not looking up from his breakfast.

"Going off-world today."

"Ah. You know, it's the time change that always gets me. You think you're doing okay when you get back on base, until you head upstairs and it's pitch-black outside." Cameron took a long, satisfied swig. "Where's Sam?"

"Still sleeping. Vala?"

"I'd think she was dead, were it not for the fact she snores like she's trying to start a lawnmower."

John grinned unseen into the open fridge, deciding not to bring up Cameron's own sleep apnea. "Any plans for today?"

"After I become conscious, you mean? I was contemplating dragging Vala back to the apartment and making her clean out some of her junk. She treats the place like a warehouse sometimes. No understanding of the concept of personal boundaries."

"That's never bothered you before," laughed John.

"Well, no, not _that_." Cameron's lecherous grin disappeared behind the buffer of his mug. "Still, she hasn't been living on this planet that long. I have no idea how she accumulated all this stuff."

John shrugged, at a loss. He'd given up trying to explain Vala's behavior. If her teammates couldn't, he would never be able to. "Is there any cereal?"

"Check the cupboard." Cameron tapped out a staccato beat of spoon against ceramic. The tapping thing was never a good sign, it meant he was antsy about something. Sure enough, after a moment, Cameron asked, "Sheppard?"

"Mitchell."

But Cameron didn't actually finish his thought. John waited, pouring his cereal, unearthing a spoon from the silverware drawer, getting up on the table to eat. He knew what Cameron wanted to ask and was even thinking that after a week, he was finally ready to answer it. But the question didn't come. Maybe Cameron had decided not to push it, decided John's mere presence was answer enough.

Sam stumbled into the room, effectively stopping them from acknowledging the matter, if they'd ever really meant to. "Is there coffee?"

"Should be a cup left in the pot, unless John drank it all."

"I didn't drink it all. I didn't even have any."

"Oh, good." Sam's voice was more reverent at the promise of coffee than anything else they'd ever heard. "Ass off the counter, Sheppard, some of us have to eat there." Cameron opened his mouth, but Sam's index found the back of his neck and tipped his head forward warningly. "Don't even say it."

John laughed and got down.

"I'm gonna go wake up Sleeping Beauty," said Cameron, getting to his feet. "I'm sure she'll want to give you a big send-off."

"I'm sure she will," said John, settling onto the stool Cameron had abandoned.

"Send-off?" asked Sam, tucking her hair behind her ear before she lifted her mug. "Where are you going?"

"Off-world." She nodded. "By the way," he added, "Rodney's catching a flight back to Nevada this morning. He thinks Area 51's going to blow up if he stays away much longer. He blames me, of course."

"Of course he does. You know, they managed for years without him."

"Inefficiently and always six seconds away from exploding, to hear him talk about it. Want me to tell him you said goodbye?"

"Not in so many words. Hey," she tapped his shoulder, "how are you doing? Memory working okay?"

"Yeah, great," he said. "Who are you again?"

"Funny."

"I'm fine," he assured her. "Really." Of any of them, he was least offended by Sam's constant inquiries. She was the scientist, after all. The other two were just annoying. John snaked a hand around her waist, pulling her onto his lap. It didn't hurt that the position made her stop giving him the puppy-dog look. "Didn't I seem fine last night?" he asked, breathing across the back of her neck.

Sam melted against him. "Yes."

"Thought so. I'm _fine_," he repeated. "You and Cameron can seriously leave me alone. I get enough of it at the SGC. If something goes wrong, I'll tell you."

"Look at this," said Cameron. "I leave for five seconds, and you two are all over each other. Almost breaks a guy's heart."

"Don't get started without me," said Vala, bounding over with her silk robe flopping around her, barely held in place by the belt, and not much else. She flung her arms around John's neck, nearly knocking Sam to the ground.

"Okay, let's not break the genius," said John as he attempted to un-sandwich himself from the women and deposit Sam gently on the floor. "And nothing's getting started, I gotta head to that job thing of mine."

Vala pouted. "That hardly seems fair."

"Yeah, sucks, don't it," said Cameron. "Saving the universe, and all that."

"Well, maybe we'll run into SG-8 off-world and you and I will have to pretend not to know each other and engage in covert operations." She trailed her finger over John's t-shirt suggestively. Over the top of her head, John and Cameron exchanged a smirk.

"So that's what they're calling it nowadays," said John.

"See? You lose your memory, and you miss everything."

"I'll jot that one down for future reference."

"Anyway, we'll probably be at the base by the time you get back," said Sam.

"All right. Save me some lunch."

"I'm not sure why you'd want us to save you _their_ lunch," said Cameron, "but all right. Consider yourself penciled in for the cool kids table."

"We are definitely the cool kids," Vala said with authority.

"That is one of the many rumors getting passed around about you guys," said John.

"Oh yeah?" Vala propped herself up on the counter and swung her legs back and forth. "What are the others?"

"You don't tell _her_ to get off the table," John said darkly.

"I haven't yet convinced her to be afraid of me," said Sam.

"I'm not easy like the boys," said Vala.

"I think she just insulted our virtue," Cameron said to John.

"Actually, one of the rumors is that Vala is secretly an alien dominatrix..."

"Really?"

"No, I'm making that up. It's the usual stuff, who's sleeping with who. There were betting pools in Atlantis. Not about you guys, of course, although there was that one pool when you came to the city, about how long it'd take for Sam to kick Rodney's ass..."

"Sorry, how long 'to' or how long 'before'?" said Cameron.

"Oh, be nice," said Sam, giving him a poke.

"Baby, you know I don't like it when you use 'nice' and 'McKay' in the same sentence."

Sam ignored Cameron altogether. "Speaking of Rodney, though, you were going to say goodbye to him before he left, right?"

"Yeah. He's probably called my cell six times already by now. I should go," he added for posterity. With all three of them there, though, leaving the kitchen was becoming a lot less appealing. "But I'll see you guys later."

"We'll be waiting for you when you get back," said Sam with a warm smile.

"Yeah," said John, "I know."


End file.
